


The Voice of the Lotus Flower

by TheFriendliestPunk



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Don't judge me I started this fic when I was 12, Joke Upload, Logistics Nightmare, No romance just two traumatized idiots who become friends, Plot Holes Ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:27:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFriendliestPunk/pseuds/TheFriendliestPunk
Summary: Girl has two pieces of Innocence. Girl runs into Kanda in Mater. Chaos ensues.
Kudos: 2





	The Voice of the Lotus Flower

**Author's Note:**

> I was digging through my old computer files and came across this fic I started back in middle school. This was uploaded purely as a joke between me and my friends; I'm happy if you like it, but this isn't professional, beta-read, nada. Enjoy this cringe nightmare.
> 
> Also apparently I have SIX MORE of these buggers in a series. Let me know if you want me to upload the rest. Fuck.

I register the stale smell of mold in air heavy with human breath.

Someone slams into me from behind, causing me to careen forward and nearly trip. The action was likely intentional, but I let it go and keep walking. Starting an argument here could end very badly.

Instead I scan my surroundings, listening for specific voices, specific words. A single scathing tone is no big deal. Multiple sneering faces present a major problem. It’s no use trying to spot those particular faces in the crowd; the throng of people is so thick that distinguishing any one person is nearly impossible. Listening is my best option, though even that is complicated by the massive number of conversations taking place at any given time. Still, certain voices stick out in my mind like warning bells.

But the passages in this school are so small that even if I have advanced warning of inbound enemies, there’s not much I can do about it. Instead I must cling to the hope that my personal troop of monsters are not hungry for blood today.

Luck seems to be in my favor. No one casts me a second glance as I scurry to my next class, ducking my head but always apprehensive, always listening. Safety one moment does not guarantee safety the next.

Thankfully, I reach the designated classroom without incident. Darting inside yields a room plagued with clouds of dust floating lazily through the air. Despite the fact that this space is used daily, enough muck collects in it to cause a hacking cough in more fragile lungs. The fact of there being only one window, especially a closed one, doesn’t aid the situation in the slightest.

I ignore the tickle in my lungs and amble over to my normal seat to find someone already occupying it.

The culprit is tall with a full mop of shaggy brown hair the color of earth after heavy rain. He has a traditionally handsome face with a sharp nose and chin in contrast to deceivingly soft dark eyes. If he was kind, perhaps I would see the beauty etched into the rocks of mountains reflected in those brown eyes. But as the situation stands, those wondrous orbs of luminescence turn to quicksand, the clean edges of his face becoming deadly shards of ice.

“Lucas.” I utter the name, not the worst of the evils plaguing me but not the name of a friend, either. “Get out of my seat.”

Lucas turns to the person sitting next to him, a girl with the same sense of false beauty. They both snicker, their laughter resounding in the thin walls until it seems the very building joins in their mockery.

“You’ve got it wrong. This is my seat. Piss off,” Lucas jeers, his face tightening in a ghastly smile. I am his greatest source of entertainment, and right now he’s looking for a show.

I’m not in a performing mood today.

I cast Lucas a glare and retreat, sitting in the only empty desk near the front of the class. Immediately uneasiness takes hold. I hate having people behind me, being blind to their actions.

However, a glance to my right proves I’m against the wall with the single window, provided with a clear view of the forest beyond the confines of Aabenra’s dismal high school. Unfortunate tactical position or no, I’ve got quite a view.

The instructor strides in, a squat little woman with an attitude problem. But although her lectures are a chore to listen to both in their lack of interesting qualities and my nonexistent respect for her character, I really do make an effort to pay attention. However, soon my mind is absorbed by the wilderness outside the stifling brick walls and the teacher’s voice fades into insignificant background noise.

I take in the abundance of early autumn colors splattered about the forest, a mosaic of brilliant reds and golds. They weave together like fire, rippling and shimmering with every passing gust of wind. But of course, the trees never burn, the swirling flames spiraling up and up until the wind falters and leaves rain like ashes.

I suppose even death can be beautiful, made spectacular by the changing seasons.

A flash of brown and white catches my eye. A small bird with dusty brown wings mixed with splashes of white lands atop an exposed branch, fluffing out its pale feathers to banish the cold. _A mockingbird,_ I realize, recognizing the lean, flat-tailed bird.

The mockingbird croons softly, a melodic song that fills the empty air of the forest. _Whose song are you repeating? Or is this one all your own?_ I ponder. I absorb the notes like dry soil in a summer rain, even though I know I’ll never be able to replicate the song beyond this moment.

A noise catches the mockingbird’s attention and it freezes before flying away in a display of brown and silver feathers.

I resume my lazy observation of the woods, my gaze roving the foliage for signs of life. Soon the classroom around me fades and I can almost smell the cool outside air, feel the gentle wind spiraling through my hair.

It’s bittersweet, losing yourself in a world beyond your reach. It’s all-consuming, capturing me to the point that the real world seemingly no longer exists. In fact, I’m so far gone that I remain oblivious to the teacher’s bid for my attention until the third time she calls my name.

“Evelyn,” she almost whines. She peers at me expectantly, prompting several seconds of awkward silence as I rack my memory for her question and come up empty.

“Sorry, what?” I mumble, trying to ignore the snickering that ensues.

The teacher lets out an impatient sigh that makes my eyebrow twitch in irritation.

“What principle does Newton’s first law explain?”

“Inertia,” I answer easily, silencing some of the jeers.

“Good.” the instructor pauses to instill seriousness, which only infuriates me more. “There’s only a few minutes left of class. I should hope your attention span can carry you that far. Be more vigilant.”

 _Don’t count on it_ , I think mutinously, holding the teacher’s disdainful glare until the bell rings a second later. Panic jolts through me and I hurry to stuff my papers away, frustrated that I didn’t do so before everyone stampedes toward the doors. I close the backpack with fumbling fingers and rise, trying to keep out of the thick of the crowd as I slink towards the door.

Not quick enough. Lucas materializes to my left and shoves me sideways, sending me careening into a bookshelf. The rickety structure wobbles and I hurry to steady it, my chest heaving with panicked breaths. Thankfully the shelves stabilize, but not before a few books tip over the edge and onto my head. The impact is jarring and sharp pain erupts on the crown of my head. No one helps me clamber to my feet, including the teacher. I didn’t expect them to. I neatly place the toppled books back into place and exit.

Scurrying out into the hallway beyond yields a much more expansive battlefield and many more angry voices to listen for. Immediately I lock onto a nasal voice to my right, growing closer with every second. Not good.

My facade of calm is up and I bolt for the exit doors, hearing their jeers follow me even after the heavy double doors slam shut, sealing the barrier between the school and my refuge.

Blissful wilderness surrounds me and I relish the feeling of the flame-colored undergrowth enveloping me like a shield. The only angry voices I’ve ever come across are those of birds, but those are a welcome noise. The air out here is clearer, free of the mold and sorrow plaguing the building rapidly vanishing from my view. I take several deep breaths as I walk along my long-traveled path, allowing the serenity of the woods to wash over me.

It’s only a ten minute walk from here to my house, and very soon I begin to notice something is off. The bird calls I often listen for have fallen silent, as have the footsteps of deer and the scrambling of squirrels. In fact, the forest is completely devoid of activity, despite being isolated from the busy streets of Aabenra.

 _Weird. Is there a storm coming?_ I ponder, but the sky is crystal clear. My brow furrowing, I keep my eyes and ears open for suspicious movement as I draw closer to home.

Eventually the woods thin and my little one-story house comes into view, a squat brick dwelling decorated by flowerpots and flowing drapes in the front windows. My last obstacle lies before me; a wide street bustling with afternoon crowds.

My stomach squirms uncomfortably. I haven’t had problems here before, but I still don’t like crowds.

I leave the strangely chilling woods behind and weave through the mass of people, keeping my arms tucked tightly against my sides. After some collisions and painfully awkward apologies, I bound up the brick steps to see a little apparition-like figure leap down from the windowsill adjacent to the entrance.

Pushing the front door open invites bombardment and welcome headbutts from my cat. Mina’s coat is a nearly-transparent, ghostly white, as if she could easily fade between the realms of the living and the dead. Her eyes are piercing green and narrow in happiness at my return. A long tail slaps at my legs, the kink midway down causing it to flop awkwardly with every swish of the appendage.

Closing the front door is a struggle with Mina weaving between my feet, but I manage and drop my pack beside the entrance before meandering to the kitchen. I take in the faded red walls, the white floor tiles stained from years of cooking spills, then rummage in the small cabinet in the far corner containing only cheese, bread, and today’s catch.

Mina lets out a series of high-pitched mews as she realizes what I’m doing, trying to force her way past me into the cabinet. I laugh and toss a hunk of fish onto the floor. Mina’s contented purrs fill my ears as I wrap the rest of the fish and put it back in its place. Afterwards I kneel down and scratch her back just before the front door is flung open with a tremendous _bang._ Mina arches her back and flees into the next room.

I leap to my feet, my eyes wide as my parents storm into the house. They leave the door ajar behind them, allowing the wind to chop at the indoor air. Their expressions clearly indicate something is amiss; grim and absent of their typical light-hearted grins.

My first instinct is to turn to my mother for answers. She is graceful with soft features, a round face, and large eyes that radiate quiet beauty. Her hair is a rich brown and loose curls spiral to her waist. Usually she appears content and nonchalant, but today she carries herself with a sense of urgency.

My father is her polar opposite with a tall stature and a full head of shaggy white hair that tickles the tops of his ears. He has a much more commanding presence and is generally stolid, but his scowl is far deeper than usual. My first response is to glance at his left knee, a frequent sore spot after an accident at work several months ago. But his limp is no worse, so that surely isn’t the source of his discomfort.

_Maybe I’m in trouble for something,_ is my next presumption, but I can’t recall anything I might have done that would warrant such a severe response.

“What’s wrong?” I ask meekly, my anxiety rising.

“We’re going on an errand. Be ready in five minutes.” My mother’s voice is sharp and cutting, a tone she’s never before used with me. When I remain still, she sweeps her hand in a sudden, agitated gesture. “Go!”

Frightened and startled beyond words, I scramble backwards out of the kitchen. I seek refuge in my room, a tiny rectangular space branching off the hallway beyond the kitchen. The interior yields only a small, low bed, an antique dresser, and a mirror against the wall adjacent to the door.

I gaze into the glass to examine my appearance, ensuring I look presentable to go into town again. I smooth the wrinkles in my black t-shirt and snug old work jeans before re-tucking them into lace-up boots that halt just below my knees. My raven-colored hair is curly like my mom’s and reaches midway down my back. It’s a little disheveled from the incident with the bookshelf, so I maneuver the strands back into place. As I work, my eyes travel up to the bizarre aspect of my appearance.

Clearly visible is a navy blue streak of hair that frames the right side of my face. I’ve never known what to make of it; supposedly I’ve always had it. Typically I do my best to conceal it under the mess of thick black curls, but I decide to leave it be for now as my father yells for me to hurry. Lastly, I throw a hair tie around my wrist and briefly meet my own stormy blue eyes before returning to the kitchen. My parents occupy the same positions as when I left them, but the agitation in their expressions has only magnified.

Again I am the one to break the silence.

“How long will this errand take?” I proceed cautiously. My parents don’t anger easily, but given their current mood, I’d best not push them.

“A while,” is my mother’s vague response.

Several seconds pass, but no further response is forthcoming.

“Will we be back by dinner?” I prompt, feeling slight irritation of my own bubble up.

“No.”

Then silence.

“I’ll be right back,” I say slowly, exiting the room. I retrieve my backpack and grab a loaf of bread from the food storage closet for the three of us to share before shoving it in the pack and braving the kitchen once again.

"Are you ready now?” my father snaps in impatience.

“Yes,” I reply quietly, struggling to keep indignation out of my tone. _They can be short-tempered with me, but I don’t have to like it._ I contemplate asking for more details, but my mother is very clearly averse to discussion right now. _Whatever this errand is, it must be unpleasant to make them act like this. Let’s just get this over with. It’s safest not to ask questions until it’s done,_ I decide.

So many questions jumble inside my brain that it’s hard to contemplate any individual one, but I voice none as we journey to the stables next door. We take the time to saddle up two chestnut horses before I hop onto the larger of the two beside my father. We thunder into the street and head out of the city with only a small bag of snacks and the impossibly loud silence to keep us company.

No one says much for the first day of the journey. A multitude of breathtaking scenery passes me by without notice as my thoughts are reduced to a muddle of confusion.

 _Uprooted from home and dragged to God knows where. What can I possibly say to that?_ I ponder, but the courage to speak up to the silent couple I feel I no longer recognize eludes me.

When we stop for the night, the situation only grows stranger. We set up a campfire in a clear space concealed by a wide clump of shrubs, leaving the horses to graze nearby.

I retrieve the loaf of bread from my pack, but when I offer each of my parents a piece, they refuse.

“We’re not hungry,” my mother explains, her voice monotone. “You eat it.”

“How can you not be hungry? We’ve been on the road all day,” I question them in concern. I inspect their faces, and they do look pale. “Do you feel sick?”

My mother sighs, her patience visibly thinning. “Yes, as a matter of fact. But never mind that.”

“Oh. Maybe we should head back to Aabenra. Maybe we can get help-”

My sentence quickly dies when my mother’s face contorts in a grisly mask of anger. She winds her hand back as if she means to strike me, and my vision tunnels in on the threat. My thoughts briefly insist I dodge the blow, but shock renders me immobile.

My parents and I rarely argue, but even in those instances, I never imagined either of them would raise a hand against me. Their agitation never came close to the magnitude of rage I now witness in my mother, a violent expression that leaves her unrecognizable.

My father steps in, grasping my mother’s wrist to restrain her. She throws him a furious glance, then calms an instant later. Gratitude briefly overshadows my fear, but dissolves the instant I meet my father’s gaze. A similar frightening expression shadows his face, an emotion I surely mistake for bloodlust. Mistaken or no, his grip on my mother’s hand is far from gentle, his hands shaking as if restraining violence. I shrink back, putting a sizable distance between us.

“Eat what you want and go to bed,” my father grumbles.

I nod and scurry away, mute from shock and desperately hoping that their icy malice will soon thaw in the warm rays of sunrise.

Our journey continues in dead silence for another full day. The loaf of bread is gone by the end of the night, since I pester my parents until they agree to eat their share. This eases my fears slightly, but it also means our food stores are gone. In light of this, I sleep through most of the third day to ignore the crescendo of hunger pains.

I am finally awoken presumably both by the rumbling of my stomach and the fact that we are still in motion past sunset. In fact, the sun’s final rays have already died and the blue-black glow of the chilly autumn night has descended upon us. This makes it impossible for my eyes to penetrate the darkness, but my parents haven’t faltered and appear to be faring just fine.

I straighten up in time to see my father lean closer to my mother. Their faces crease in sinister determination.

“Is this far enough?” my father asks. My mother nods in assent.

“Is what far enough?” My eyes are still blurry from sleep, my words slow and stumbling.

My father swivels to face me, flattening his palm over my neck. An abrupt, violent burning sensation snaps me fully awake, and I think for a moment that he’s strangling me. However, the agony seems to stem from within my vocal cords. The pain is so great that my brain can’t process why.

When I open my mouth in a silent scream, my father shoves me off the back of the horse. I land heavily on my back and gasp for air, coughing and spluttering. The sharp pain has vanished, but I rub my throat absently, my mind still not registering that the torment is gone.

I raise my head as soon as I’m able and witness two shapes racing away from me without regret or hesitation. Neither of my parents’ heads even turn back to give me a parting glance, their forms growing smaller and less distinct as the darkness swallows them.

My mouth falls open in an attempt to call after them, but no words emerge and I am left to stagger to my feet, shock reverberating through me as comprehension crashes into existence with the force of a lightning strike.

Tears track down my face as I take in my surroundings. There’s little to no green in the barren landscape; only a few dry bushes litter the ground. Without trees to obstruct my view, my eyes focus on a dark city looming a little way away. It’s too far to tell if there are any people in the town, but I’m starving and alone, so that’s the way I’m headed.

I look despairingly one last time at the shapes in the distance, but they have disappeared.

______________________________________________

“I got a report yesterday that Akiyoshi was killed on a job,” murmurs a voice at the table behind me. Stunned silence follows his words for several seconds.

“I…can’t believe it,” another man breathes sorrowfully.

I close my eyes, trying to shut out the mournful conversation occurring behind me. I simply focus on eating the soba noodles on my plate and block out all of the sounds around me.

“That’s a shame. He was such a young lad, too,” someone else interjects.

 _I don’t want to listen to this_. _I already know,_ I complain internally. Recalling my last job is painful, along with the memory of the Finder they’re mourning being shot by the enemy before I could help.

“He had his whole life ahead of him.”

“Shut up,” I growl.

Conversation at the table ceases, and a shuffle reaches my ears as one of the men rises to his feet. His shadow looms over my back, but I remain seated and facing away from him, keeping my eyes trained on my food.

“What did you say?!” the man confronts me, his voice tense with anger.

“Stop it, Bazu,” one of the man’s comrades warns hesitantly.

Something about the guy’s voice fuels my irritation, so I act against my rational sense and persist.

“You’re being annoying. All your whining about the dead guys is ruining my meal,” I grumble.

The Finder’s fury is clearly palpable, despite the fact that I can’t see him.

“Is that how you talk about your comrades who died in the line of duty?! We risk our lives to help you Exorcists out!” Bazu spits.

Dozens of heads turn in our direction, many shocked, some angry. No one steps in to stop Bazu this time as he curls his hand into a fist and moves closer.

The entire cafeteria seems to hold its breath and I realize the enraged Finder must be drawing his arm back for a strike. Knowing the odds of him being right-handed are much higher than being a lefty, I dodge accordingly and in a fraction of a second, rise and grasp Bazu’s throat and lift him into the air with one hand.

“Help us out, you say?” I sneer. My anger sends me over the edge, an unconscious, humorless smile creeping onto my face. “Isn’t the truth that you can’t do anything _but_ help out? None of you could become Exorcists. You’re losers who didn’t get chosen by Innocence!”

Everyone in the room has turned to us now, a shocked hush falling over them. Even the angered faces have tightened into disbelief, frozen in their seats.

“Finders can be replaced at any time,” I continue, my patience snapping. “If you don’t want to die, then quit!”

With these words, the rest of the Finders spring into action. Several dozen people stampede toward me, preparing to reclaim their comrade. Some leap over tables and even each other to reach me. I remain still, my adrenaline spiking.

 _If they want to fight, then why the hell not? I can take all of them on,_ I think, bracing for the onslaught of people.

Two figures launch themselves in the middle of the fray. One is Toma, a Finder. He tries to use himself as a barricade, spreading his arms to stop several people from reaching me in an attempt to minimize the fight’s participants. The second is a teenage boy with silver-white hair. His presence causes everyone to freeze.

I recognize the boy as Allen Walker, the newest Exorcist. His face is young and still somewhat rounded. A long, jagged red scar carves the skin above his left eye all the way down his cheek. His large gray eyes are hard as he places himself in between me and Bazu, his left hand firmly grasping mine.

Despite the odd hair color and facial marking, the newcomer’s left arm is perhaps the strangest aspect of his appearance. The skin on his hand and forearm is dark red and solid like metal or rock, but still emits the warmth of a human hand. His fingernails are jet black, and they dig into my wrist as he stares me down.

“Stop,” he commands. “Sorry to butt in, but I don’t think you should talk that way,” he adds more lightly, though an edge is still present in his tone.

“Let it go, Bean Sprout,” I mutter, frustrated that he got involved.

“Bean Sprout? My name is Allen,” he protests, sounding slightly surprised.

“If you last a whole month without dying, I’ll make note of your name,” I allow. “People here die all the time, like these guys.”

Allen applies significant pressure to my wrist and my grip on Bazu loosens. The Finder drops to the ground, color returning to his face as he gulps in air. Two of his friends hurry forward to help him. They haul him upright and cast me glares promising vengeance.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Allen challenges again, his unblinking gaze never leaving mine.

“I don’t want to be touched by someone who’s cursed,” I mutter disdainfully, indicating the new Exorcist’s arm as I pull away sharply. “You’ll die young. I hate guys like you.”

“Thanks,” Allen retorts.

Sparks of fury flash between us and the Finders have the sense to back away, unwilling to be caught up in a fight between two people whose power is far out of their league.

“Kanda! Allen!” a familiar voice shouts from the hall.

I wrench my gaze from Allen and turn to see two figures eyeing us warily from the hallway.

The first is Lenalee Lee, a teenage girl with long pine green hair pulled into pigtails. She’s petite with a slender face and vibrant purple eyes. She’s clad in an Exorcist uniform, though it takes a different shape from my long coat. The uniform consists of a long-sleeve jacket with a high collar and a short skirt, all in the same shade of black with white stripes down the sleeves, front, and collar. Her striking plum-colored eyes flit between Allen and me, narrowing in embarrassment of the second arrival standing behind her.

The person using Lenalee as a human shield is Reever, a member of the Science Section. Spiky brown hair that defies the laws of gravity accents a square face and small blue eyes. He is actually just over six feet tall, but has shrunk almost to Lenalee’s 5’6” as he shrinks away from the hostility clouding the area. He’s clad in a sky blue t-shirt and brown slacks under a lab coat with a stack of books under his arm. He cups a hand over his mouth to call to us again, but remains behind Lenalee as he does so.

“Come to the Command Room. You’ve got an assignment!” he hollers.

Lenalee glances at Reever in light-hearted exasperation and motions for us to follow her.

I swivel around and march towards the door without checking to see if Allen is keeping pace. He catches up within a few moments, but I resolve to ignore him. We pass countless Order members on our way, but those that were present for our quarrel give us a wide berth and the rest, while slightly befuddled, follow their example.

Given that the perturbed atmosphere hasn’t subsided, no one dares to break the tense silence until we reach the Chief’s office.

“Brother, I’m coming in!” Lenalee calls once we reach the towering double doors, one of which is cracked open.

We enter a room that is cluttered like none that I’ve ever seen with books and documents scattered at random all over the circular room. A single pathway has been cleared through the center of the space, but the rest is piled high with papers. Every wall functions as a bookshelf, but even those are filled to the brim with records and can’t contain nearly all of them. A huge desk dominates the back of the room, and muffled snores can be heard from its occupant.

Komui Lee, head of the Science Section, is an unpredictable man with erratic mood swings ranging from serious and stern to bouncing-off-the-walls hyper. He’s a bit difficult to understand, but his really does his best to make life easier for us Exorcists. I can appreciate the work he puts in to help us out. The long hours take a toll on him, as seen from his presently unconscious form.

“Chief! Chief Komui!” Reever yells, trying to shake him awake. When this fails, Reever leans in close to Kumui’s ear. “I heard that Lenalee’s getting married.”

This works spectacularly, and Komui bolts upright, his expression panicked.

“Lenalee! I won’t allow you to get married without telling me! I won’t!” he wails, grabbing a tight hold of his sister. Lenalee’s cheeks burn florescent red as her brother clutches, sobbing, onto her.

Without seeing the two siblings side by side, it’s a little difficult to discern that they’re related. Whereas Lenalee’s hair is green, Komui’s is dark purple and his eyes black. He also wears narrow glasses, unlike Lenalee. Still, they have the same olive complexion and their facial structure is similar.

“Sorry. This is the only way we can wake him up,” Reever comments to Allen and me, who both refrain from getting involved. He smacks Komui over the head with a clipboard, which brings him to his senses.

Komui reclaims his seat and pulls his hat down over the welt on his forehead caused by the blow.

“We’re short on time, so you two need to leave as soon as you hear the outline-” he starts.

“You two?!” Allen and I exclaim in unison.

“With him?!” I protest indignantly.

“That’s right! You are both going,” Komui confirms lightly. A moment of annoyed silence passes and Komui looks between us, perplexed. “What’s this? Are you two already off to a bad start?”

“What do you expect, given how they met?” Lenalee points out, and Komui pales.

It’s true that I met Allen before today. In fact, I was his welcome party when he first came to the Order and the guard mistook him for an akuma. I almost skewered him with my sword before Komui found the letter recommendation from Allen’s mentor, General Cross, in this colossal mess of an office and announced he was a friend. All in all, we didn’t exactly meet on the best of terms.

“I can’t let either of you go alone,” Komui insists. His expression sobers as he pulls down a massive map of Europe behind his desk. “Innocence was discovered in Southern Italy. But it seems a demon has also become aware of it and has set its sights on it. Head there immediately. Destroy the enemy and secure the Innocence.”

Komui hands Allen a thin booklet which is no doubt filled with information on our destination.

“For details, read the materials on your way there. We’ll show you the waterway exit leading out of the Black Order,” he finishes, walking out the door to his office and motioning for us to trail behind.

Now I’m really pissed. This job will be much faster if I go alone, but not only do I have to accompany another Exorcist, he has no idea what he’s doing! I don’t want to drag the newbie along, and I definitely don’t have the patience to correct his mistakes.

I glance at Komui, completely befuddled. _Why would he send me on a mission with another newbie so soon after Akiyoshi was killed? Surely he realizes I don’t want that responsibility again_ , I ponder. Komui appears to read my thoughts, because he briefly rests his hand on my shoulder.

“This will go more smoothly than you think,” he whispers.

I shrug him off and move ahead, leading the group through the dim corridors until we reach the waterway, a river-like stone passage below Headquarters with canoes lining the sides.

Toma is already waiting by the time we arrive, and he and I climb inside the canoe and wait for further instructions.

Allen moves to join us, but Komui stops him and holds out a black and white coat identical to mine.

Most of the Exorcist uniforms are the same; a long piece of clothing resembling a trench coat with a hood and the Black Order’s jagged silver seal shaped like the Northern Star. Lenalee’s is an exception because her Innocence is in her legs, so a coat would just be clumsy and awkward to fight in.

Allen slips on the uniform and stretches, testing its maneuverability.

“Are all Exorcists required to wear this?” he asks. The question is curious rather than exasperated.

“It’s proof that you’re an Exorcist. It’s also made for combat, so it’s fairly sturdy,” Komui explains patiently.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see something shoot out of Allen’s uniform and hover over his head.

“Timcanpy!” Allen exclaims, watching the small shape flit around. “Where have you been?”

General Cross’ golem is easy to distinguish. Its golden spherical body is decorated with elaborately carved symbols and its tail ends in an irregular flame-shaped plume. Skinny wings keep it aloft, flapping swiftly to do so.

 _Tsk,_ I think to myself. _How do you lose a golem?_

Golems are communication devices developed by the Order to use as super-powered radios. They can also record videos, which are frequently used for reports or as evidence if inconsistencies arise involving a mission. Most golems are black and one of a limited array of geometric shapes. They don’t have personalities and are considered more of a machine than a living pet. Timcanpy is a rarity crafted by Cross himself. It is equipped with unique characteristics that makes it appear to be alive.

With the mission briefing out of the way, Toma unties the canoe from the ledge and casts off, steering us down the passage towards the fading day beyond.

“I saw your past,” Komui calls to Allen as we drift away.

The new Exorcist stares back at him in shock, but Komui’s tone and face reveal nothing but cheerfulness.

 _The recording feature,_ I realize. As Allen’s astonished expression remains, curiosity nags at me. _What secrets is he hiding?_ I wonder, but shake my head to banish the thought. _It doesn’t matter. I need to focus on the job at hand._

I keep this thought firmly in my head as Allen waves to the two figures rapidly disappearing and we drift into the swiftly approaching moonlight.

After what seems like an eternity of floating downhill on a steep river, the passageway opens up into a small pool and I immediately jump out.

Toma and Allen do the same. I turn them once we’re on solid ground.

“There should be a train coming that will take us to the city of Mater,” I say briskly, unwilling to waste any time.

Toma nods, but Allen looks confused.

“We don’t have tickets,” he says.

“We don’t need tickets. Don’t worry; we’ll show you what to do,” Toma reassures Allen.

I nod and look up at the night sky.

“Let’s hurry,” I urge, taking off across the grass.

Soon the howl of a train whistle sounds in the distance. I pick up the pace until we’re sprinting across the field. We reach a nearby town and leap up onto the roof of a house to travel by rooftop.

“Woah, hold on a sec!” Allen protests as we leap from building to building.

“We don’t have time to slow down,” I holler over the blasting of the train’s whistle just ahead.

“This happens occasionally,” Toma says to Allen’s incredulous expression.

We’re beginning to run out of ground, and the fast-moving form in the distance signals our ride as we race towards the last rooftop. Instead of stopping when we reach the edge of the last building, we hurl ourselves over it and on top of the oncoming train. The three of us land simultaneously with a loud _thud._ The impact actually leaves a dent in the roof of the compartment.

I wince. I’d hoped that our landing would be more graceful. But there’s nothing we can do to fix that now, so I lead the way towards the rear of the train, spreading my arms slightly to keep my balance as the train rocks back and forth.

When we reach the last compartment, we drop onto the ledge open to the outside, the bulky form of the vehicle shielding us some from the wind.

I open the door to find two employees staring, dumbfounded, at us as we enter. They both appear shocked and a tad frightened. This isn’t exactly unexpected or a first. Most people tend to have the same reaction when we drop onto the roof of a moving train.

“We’re from the Black Order,” Toma announces, flashing the seal on his tan uniform. “I think you have our reservation.”

The employee is no less baffled, but bows and turns back toward the front of the car.

“Oh, pardon me! I’ll show you to your compartment right away.”

Allen’s eyes widen like full moons when we bypass the other compartments and meander over to first class. The newbie and I settle in while Toma keeps watch just outside.

The room is still small, but not as cramped as the other sections on the train. Green drapes are accented by the tangerine hue of the couches and roses painted on the wall.

I settle onto the seat opposite Allen, staring absently out the window as I contemplate what we may face once we reach our destination.

After a few moments of admiring the sparkly-clean compartment, Allen flips open the booklet regarding our assignment and peruses through it, his eyes backtracking through some sections more than once.

“We’re headed to the ancient city of Mater. If I remember correctly, it’s a city that went to ruin quite a long time ago, right?” Allen inquires, his gaze flitting to me briefly before settling back on the page. “Our target is the ghost of Mater.”

Allen’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he flips through the previous page.

“Ghost?! What does a ghost have to do with Innocence?!” he exclaims, clearly expecting an explanation when he turns in my direction.

Innocence, the power source for Exorcists, can often cause strange phenomena that lead to people to assuming the supernatural. This paves the way to odd conclusion like ghosts or witches.

 _If the beansprout doesn’t already know this after hosting Innocence for this long, there’s no point in explaining,_ I decide, ignoring my co-worker as I slide my focus back to the window.

“You just snubbed me,” Allen accuses, enraged by my dismissal.

“I didn’t,” I reply coldly.

“You did!” Allen retorts hotly.

“Mysterious phenomena tend to happen where Innocence exists,” Toma’s voice calls through the door. “There are many cases where Innocence has changed its state between the time of Noah’s flood and the present.”

I recall the story from the Old Testament, the event in which the world was destroyed by the centuries-old fight between Exorcists and akuma. The Exorcists triumphed after several millennium of war, but at a great price. Innocence was scattered all over the world by the flood, leaving us to embark on the world’s crappiest scavenger hunt.

“Innocence is often found by humans and ends up in various forms. And, although the reason is unknown, it always causes mysterious phenomena,” Toma further elaborates.

It’s true that Innocence exists in many forms. The most basic of these is two shining gears encasing a ball of light that easily fits into the palm of my hand. If the Innocence we’re chasing is in this state, our job will be fairly simple. Unfortunately, in many cases, Innocence transforms itself or does so forcibly when humans get a hold of it. This complicates the matter because we must first discover what form it has taken and how to gain possession of it.

The biggest snag in our missions is often that the presence of Innocence attracts akuma, otherwise known as demons. We almost always run into them on jobs, and unless the unlucky party has Innocence, the only natural anti-akuma weapon, they stand no chance of killing one.

“Then you mean this ghost incident may also be caused by Innocence?” Allen guesses, bringing me back to the present.

“Yes. That’s why the Order sends Finders to such places for thorough investigations,” Toma confirms.

Allen rises and exits the compartment, leaving the door ajar as he kneels down beside our companion. A quick peek around the corner reveals Toma sitting on the floor, organizing playing cards. It seems like he’s practicing playing hands during games, but I don’t view this as significant.

“You’ve been doing this for a while,” Allen comments in interest.

“Yeah, it’s a habit of mine,” Toma admits.

“Do you enjoy it?” Allen presses, patting Timcanpy’s head affectionately as the golem perches on his head.

“Mr. Walker, do you know the story about the ghost of Mater?” Toma inquires, redirecting the conversation.

“No.”

“Supposedly, a ghost lives in the city of Mater, which went to ruin long ago. The ghost is a former resident of Mater. In order to relieve its loneliness, it captures people who come near the city,” Toma reports, a shuffling noise indicating he’s moving the cards again.

“You hear that kind of story everywhere,” Allen points out. “What separates this one from the rest?”

“We Finders go to such places, even when there’s only a single rumor. And, until we determine whether it’s fact or fiction and whether Innocence is present, our job is to stay there and investigate for months,” Toma explains. “Most of them are just rumors or bogus stories.”

_Of course. There are only 109 pieces of Innocence total. There are bound to be a lot of investigations that don’t turn up anything,_ I think.

“Even when the rumors turn out to be true, it’s not always the case that it has something to do with Innocence. But if, somewhere within that small realm of possibility, Innocence is discovered…” Toma starts.

“That’s when,” I interrupt, coming to stand beside my companions. “We do our job.”

Allen and Toma both nod resolutely. The Finder hurriedly packs up the cards. Before he shoves them back into his coat pocket, I catch sight of the card at the bottom of the deck. Staring back at me with its narrow, ghostly face and a pointed hood, is the joker.

Almost a full day passes as we traverse the continent on the train. Once we pass the Italian border, our anticipation grows and zips between the three of us as we draw closer to our destination.

For the sake of time, we decide that jumping from the train is the best course of action, rather than stopping at the station several miles ahead and backtracking.

All three of us are standing on the balcony protruding from the edge of the train, waiting for the precise moment to jump. The train has slowed down enough now that it’s safe to jump off, so I wave my hand in signal and we hurl ourselves over the railing and onto solid ground.

It’s a jarring landing despite the comparatively slow speed of the train, so we take a minute to catch our breath and regain our bearings before taking off towards Mater.

As we draw closer to the city, the unease taking up residence inside me begins to grow. I I pick up the pace until we’re running at a full sprint.

Toma reaches for the radio strapped to his back and attempts to make contact with the Finder unit already stationed in Mater, but the telling silence yields no familiar voices from the other line.

“How is it?” I ask, wondering if there are technical problems or if the unit simply isn’t responding.

“I can’t get through,” Toma reports, concerned.

I push us even faster until we’re practically flying over the hilltops. _It’s possible that their equipment just isn’t functioning,_ I remind myself. _But we’d better be prepared for the worst. There are bound to be akuma in the area._

As if on cue, a metallic whirring sound indicates Allen’s left eye’s transformation. Solid black spreads over the white of his eye, and a red bulls-eye replaces the iris. I recognize immediately what the change means.

_Akuma._

“They’re in the city,” Allen says grimly.

“You can see the akuma?” Toma infers curiously.

“My left eye can perceive them. To be precise, I can see the souls _inside_ the akuma,” Allen confirms, indicating the scarred side of his face.

_What on earth does a soul look like? What happens to them when we destroy the akuma?_ I wonder in a sudden flash of curiosity, but disregard the subject as trivial just as quickly.

“A cursed eye, huh?” I mutter. Allen’s eye returns to normal as he glances in my direction. “I’ll tell you this before everything starts, Bean Sprout. I don’t have an overoptimistic view like you do. Even if you’re about to be killed, I won’t help you if I determine it’ll get in the way of our assignment,” I warn, figuring it’s better to bring this up now rather than in the thick of battle.

_So don’t do anything reckless. I won’t be responsible for your safety,_ I add silently. _I’m not making that mistake twice._

“Forget about camaraderie and don’t act on your emotions,” I finish solemnly. “Battles always involve sacrifices.”

“That’s an unpleasant way of thinking,” Allen objects, but I ignore him as Mater comes into view over the next hill.

The old city is nearly pitch dark due to the lack of citizens, and by association, candlelight. It’s plain to see that the city was once a great wonder with buildings stacked on hills and a tower on the highest peak. But Mater has fallen into serious disrepair; a glance at the buildings shows that their structures have started to weaken. Many of the ancient stone walls have collapsed. The tower in the center of the city no longer looks like a symbol of hope, but rather a lonely pinnacle of the lives that faded long ago.

A single light catches my attention, a blinding beacon summoning us to the inner city. I am forced to squint to see inside the cube-shaped barrier due to the significant glare it sends off. Shock radiates through me once I see what it’s protecting.

Two ragged figures huddle together in the center of the force field; a girl of about fifteen or sixteen years and a shadow-clad figure whose face is hidden from my view. This must be the “ghost of Mater,” but the girl beside him isn’t affiliated with the Order, to my knowledge, so her association with our target is unknown to me.

Four devices the size of Toma’s backpack identify the source of the barrier; Finders’ meager anti-akuma weapons lying unattended on the ground with their owners nowhere in sight.

The barriers Finders carry can’t defeat an akuma, but it can trap them for a short amount of time, and in rare cases, they can be used to keep akuma from reaching something important.

The neon lights are very hard to miss. Its rainbow hue attracts a lot of attention from us Exorcists and acts as a flare to bring our assistance. Unfortunately, they’re just as visible to akuma, too. Multiple demons relentlessly fire at the barrier. Thankfully their attacks have little effect on the Order’s technology. It’s difficult to tell from this distance, but I’m assuming the akuma are all level ones by the severity of their attacks.

But with their only means of defense lying on the stony pathway, I realize with a jolt where the Finders must be.

“Then the Finders…” Allen prompts, coming to the same conclusion.

“They used the barrier-generating devices to protect the ghost of Mater to until you Exorcists arrive,” Toma says, his voice breaking once.

“No,” Allen whispers.

“Sometimes that’s the best measure,” I confirm. My words are almost drowned out by an explosion from off to our left. A huge emission of orange light sparks over the tops of several buildings, signaling another enemy in that direction.

“That light…They’re still alive!” Allen exclaims, rushing towards the scene of the fight.

“Mr. Walker!” Toma calls after him.

“Let him be,” I interject coldly. _If that idiot wants to get involved, it’s not my problem,_ I tell myself, returning my attention to the barrier as splinters begin to appear in the rainbow hues. “We’d better hurry. The barrier won’t last much longer.”

Before we can take more than a few steps towards the barrier, an angry shout from Allen and an explosion telling the end of an akuma reaches my ears.

“Idiot! He rushed in without thinking!” I curse, knowing that with the death of one akuma, more will be drawn to the scene.

Leaving him to fight his own battle, I draw my katana, Mugen, from its sheathe. Running my fingers along the blade releases its power. A neon blue light emits from the blade to signal its awakening.

“Innocence, activate!” I growl, and I feel a rush of power beneath my fingers. 

I spring in the direction of the barrier, leaping up high into the air to gain a better vantage point. A quick glance reveals a demon closing in on an injured Finder, whose grave injuries prevent him from fleeing.

Being this close to an akuma proves how nasty these creatures truly are. A balloon shaped body made out of a metal more solid than steel, making ordinary guns useless. Wire-like structures hang loosely from the bottom of the demon, though to my knowledge, they don’t serve any real purpose. Machine guns and over a dozen cannons protrude from the sides of its body, allowing it to fire bullets riddled with poison from any angle. A pale face with four striped horns, a gaping mouth, wide, nightmarish eyes, and a pentagram on its forehead identifies the front of the creature.

This is a level one demon. There are two confirmed classes, this one being the least powerful. It’s an Exorcist’s job to hunt down any level of akuma and destroy them, seeing as their only goal is to kill humans and steal the Innocence we’re trying to desperately to recover.

“Mugen, bring forth calamity! Netherworld creature Ichigen!” I shout, and dozens of ghostly fish with beady red eyes and spear-like snouts dive at the akuma. They penetrate the demon’s body in several locations. The akuma and the swordfish explode into nothingness, sending ash fluttering down onto the stony road.

I sheathe Mugen and kneel down beside the Finder to assess his wounds, concluding within a moment that he won’t survive more than another minute, at most. He has been hit with an akuma’s bullet, which contain a highly destructive toxin that gradually corrodes the body from the inside out. Even one is deadly for any ordinary human and most Exorcists.

A small part of me wishes to comfort the man in his final moments, but I know that if I don’t get the necessary information soon, my job will become impossible.

“What’s the release code for the barrier device?” I whisper.

“So you’ve come for us…Exorcist,” the dying man gasps, his breathing slow and shallow.

“Hurry up and answer if you don’t want your deaths to go to waste,” I prompt, making an effort to keep my tone gentle.

“It’s ‘have hope,’” the Finder croaks. “Thank you, Exorcist.”

The man tenses before turning to sand, the final effect of the akuma’s poison. There’s nothing I can do for him now. I make my way to the edge of the barrier with Toma trailing behind me.

I mutter the passcode and the force field dispels, leaving the two figures huddled in the center to stare up at us uncertainly.

Both shapes are clad in thick cloaks that make it difficult to see their faces. But from what I can tell, the girl’s hair is wavy and golden-blonde with bangs that conceal her left eye. Her good eye is huge and sky blue. The presumed ghost’s face is more difficult to distinguish, but his features consist of wide, soulless white eyes and an open mouth that seems to silently cry out in sorrow.

“You came to rescue us?” the girl guesses hesitantly.

“So this is the ghost of Mater,” I breathe. I extend a hand to them, indicating for them to stand.

Both of our new companions obey to the best of their ability, though the ghostly figure stumbles and falls. It’s clear that he is either injured or sick, leaving me no choice but to carry him on one arm as we hurriedly evacuate the site.

As Toma and I, along with our newest companions, leap from building to building towards another part of the city, I catch sight of Allen in one of the nearby streets. His eye is transformed again. His left arm has morphed into a steel claw with a cross on the back of the oversized hand. The anti-akuma weapon glows neon green, making him easy to identify.

Standing opposite him is another akuma. This one’s appearance is significantly different than the one I faced just now. This one has evolved, making it a level two. Whereas level one demons all have the same appearance, level twos gain their own personalities and physical traits once they level up.

This monstrosity is approximately nine feet tall and has the appearance of a jester, complete with the baggy striped pants, pointed shoes, lumpy hat, and gothic clown makeup. Its chest is armored in the same material as the level one’s body, and the demon’s distorted laughter reveals razor-sharp teeth and a long tongue covered in warts that lolls out the side of its mouth.

Allen looks back up at me uncertainly, clearly asking for help. _I warned him,_ I remind myself, turning away.

“I’m not going to help you. It’s your own fault you acted on your emotions,” I refuse. “Take care of it yourself.”

“That’s fine.” Allen’s face sets in determination. “I’m not concerned as long as you have the Innocence. I’ll catch up with you after I destroy the akuma.”

He faces the demon again, sizing up its power against his own as his opponent surely does the same.

“Destroy me?” the akuma murmurs in confusion before bursting into hysterical cackling.

“Toma, stay and watch him,” I order quietly.

“You mean Mr. Walker?” Toma inquires.

“No, that akuma,” I correct firmly. _Allen is not my responsibility._

“Yes, sir,” Toma replies regretfully, heading off into the night. I send my golem after him. It’s a lot less flashy than Tim; a simple round black bat-like device.

 _There’s no way he can defeat that thing,_ I think to myself, leaping from building to building. _I need to get these two to a safe place before the demon comes looking for us again._

Once we reach a far corner of the city, we duck inside one of the house set high on a hill and take a minute to rest. I set the “ghost” against the far wall, and the girl quickly joins him, leaning into him as they peer up at me, clearly expecting an explanation.

“Akuma are made from dark matter, which is the opposite of Innocence,” I tell them, deciding there’s no harm in answering. “The more they evolve, the stronger that material gets. When a demon evolves to the next level, it has its own ego and can talk. It also awakens a new ability and becomes remarkably stronger than it was before. It’s not something the guy you saw earlier can defeat.”

The strange man’s facial expression is impossible to read, but the girl’s anxiety is plain to see. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can say to ease her fears.

“What’s going to happen?” she asks nervously.

“It means that sooner or later, the akuma will come here,” I reply.

“In other words, you’re saying that you want to obtain the Innocence before the demon comes here?” the man asks, finally speaking up.

“Right. If possible, right now,” I say, stepping towards the pair.

The man removes his hood, revealing the rest of his cracked clay face. His wide, white eyes stare unblinkingly up at me. It actually unnerves me a little.

“I’m the ghost of Mater,” he declares.

“You’re not a real ghost,” I point out, folding my arms.

“Right. I’m a doll,” the man says.

“Guzol!” the girl protests, clearly hoping he’ll keep quiet about the matter.

“A doll?” I press, ignoring her.

“That’s right. With the rocky terrain and dry weather, the severe blazing sunlight, people used to call Mater the ‘land forsaken by God,’” Guzol continues. “The Mater citizens, who lived in despair and suffering, created a doll to forget those things for a brief time; a doll that would sing and dance.”

_Then is the clay mask his actual face?_ I ponder, but remain silent so my companion can finish his story.

“Soon the city went to ruin and the people disappeared, but the doll stayed. That doll is me, the ghost of Mater,” Guzol concludes solemnly.

“The city went to ruin 500 years ago. Have you been alive all this time since then?” I ask somewhat incredulously.

“Yes, with the Innocence as my heart,” Guzol confirms, lightly tapping his chest.

I contemplate this for a moment before deciding on my next course of action. I’m not fond of the plan that my brain formulates, but it’s the best chance of getting through the job more smoothly.

“It’s not realistic to carry a big doll and escape from here,” I reason, reaching to draw Mugen. “I’m sorry to drag you into this, but I’d like to take your heart.”

“Wait!” the girl cries, leaping in front of her comrade. “If we can’t escape, we can hide!”

“Who are you?” I ask, loosening my hold on the weapon.

“I…I’m Guzol’s…” the girl fumbles.

“Lala is a child abandoned by humans,” Guzol fills in, bitterness apparent in his tone. “I found her and took her in.”

Guzol’s explanation is interrupted by a nasty coughing fit. Lala seems to border on panic, repeatedly asking if he’s okay.

“You said we can hide. Where?” I prompt once the worst of the fit is over.

Before either of them can answer, a hurried flapping noise beside my ear signifies the return of my golem.

“Toma? What happened over there?” I call, assuming the line is still active.

“I’ve been watching from a distance. There was a violent impact earlier and Mr. Walker’s condition is unknown,” Toma reports, then inhales sharply. “The akuma came out of the building alone just now. He’s chasing Timcanpy.”

_I suppose Allen lost,_ I think, but banish my sorrow with the realization that the demon will be on the hunt for us now. _I need to focus._

“Got it. I’ll send my golem over there as a guide, so come here with Tim. It’s risky to stay there too long,” I instruct. “I need to see the video Tim recorded of the fight.”

“Yes, sir. Understood,” Toma says, then hangs up.

I turn to face the window, sending my golem back through it and out into the chilly night.

“Go to Toma,” I order, and the little radio whisks away.

“We’re really running out of time. I’m sorry, but-” I start, but when I swivel around to converse with the Guzol and Lala, they’re nowhere in sight.

_Damn. They ran. But I can’t go look for them now. I still have to meet up with Toma,_ I decide. _I’ll track them down later._

In a few minutes, I hear quiet footsteps moving towards the building. I draw Mugen, but don’t activate it in case the blue light gives away my location.

“Who’s there?” I call from the shadows.

“It’s just me,” Toma reassures me, stepping into the doorway.

_That was fast,_ I muse, but dismiss the thought.

“Where is the ghost of Mater?” Toma inquires in surprise. 

“He escaped,” I answer flatly.

Toma’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t comment further on the subject. Instead he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a pile of golden rubble.

I flash him a confused look, waiting for an explanation.

“This is Timcanpy,” Toma murmurs. As he says this, Tim’s regeneration powers kick in and the pebbles fly back into place until the golden golem’s form becomes recognizable again.

“Show me what you saw about the akuma, Tim,” I command.

The golem’s mouth opens wide to reveal saber-like fangs, and from his mouth appears a hologram depicting a being that I confuse for Allen for a moment. Quickly I realize that the jester akuma’s demented smile is sneering at me and the newbie’s anti-akuma weapon and cursed eye are on his right side, not his left.

“It’s reversed.” I narrow my eyes, mulling over the akuma’s ability.

“Yes?” Toma prompts, edging behind me.

“This akuma is a mirror image,” I think aloud.

“A mirror…” Toma echoes absently.

“Look,” I instruct, pointing to the demon’s metal arm. “When he transformed into the newbie, the right and left sides of his clothes and weapon were reversed. If you look at it carefully, the Beansprout cut down another duplicate after I left that is also reversed,” I elaborate as an image of an empty suit appears on the screen. “The body is just a shell. There’s nothing inside.”

Toma looks at me for several moments, seemingly lost in thought.

A short video shows up on the hologram in which the akuma transforms Allen’s arm into a trident, whipping it back and forth to attack.

“It’s not a simple ‘transform’ ability. It’s copying its target somehow. It seems that it can obtain the power, too, once it’s copied it. Watch how it changed the shape of the newbie’s left arm. That idiot. He let the akuma steal something nasty!” I grumble.

“I should have looked for Mr. Walker,” Toma pipes up apologetically. “If the demon takes his form…”

I nod to Tim, having seen all I need to, and the hologram dissipates.

“We don’t have to worry about it, since we’ll know immediately due to the left and right sides being reversed,” I assure him. “It would be quite stupid for it to appear as is.”

“We should head out to look for the ghost, then,” Toma suggests.

I nod and lead the way out of the building. I look down the street to my right, in the direction the akuma was earlier, but detect no signs of movement

“Mr. Kanda!” Toma suddenly gasps, pointing down a nearby alley.

Looking into the crepuscular passage yields a copy of Allen staring wide-eyed back at us. It’s immediately obvious that his weapon is on the wrong side, and I activate Mugen in a flash.

“Kanda…” the copy moans, taking a staggering step towards us.

“You’re much more stupid than I first thought,” I sneer, readying my sword. “Bring forth calamity! Netherworld creature Ichigen! Return to nothingness!” I shout.

Just before hell’s insects make contact, a metal claw reaches out from behind a corner to shield the copy from the blast, absorbing the attack into its palm.

The real Allen Walker steps out into the moonlight, glancing in concern at the copy.

_So he’s alive, after all,_ I think, a spark of relief settling some of my worries. Still, anger rises like an ocean tide at his defense of the enemy. I keep my weapon drawn.

“Mr…Walker…” the duplicate pleads, swaying to the side before collapsing. Allen catches the copy, supporting him on his Innocence arm.

“Newbie! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Why did you defend the akuma?!” I yell accusingly, my fury spilling over.

“Kanda, you know my left eye can perceive akuma, don’t you?” Allen reminds me, and I take note of the ordinary gray iris focused on me. “He’s not an akuma.”

_But if he’s not the akuma, who could it be? Guzol and the girl ran off,_ I consider, but end up with no plausible answers.

“There’s a gap on his face. Is this skin?” Allen whispers to himself, pulling on the duplicate’s cheek. The skin peels right off, revealing the battered face of a Finder beneath. “Toma!”

“What?!” I gasp, knowing who the person standing beside me must be.

“Watch out!” Allen hollers, lunging towards the demon, but the jester grabs a tight hold of my throat and shoves me into the nearest wall. The structure crumbles beneath the force of the blow, sending stone flying everywhere and making it impossible for Allen to reach me. The akuma pins me against the wall behind the collapsed one. My feet dangle uselessly several meters off the ground.

Mugen flies out of my hand, its light fading as it sticks in a nearby groove in the pavement. It’s far out of my reach, so I have no defense against the akuma towering over me.

“You son of a bitch. When did you transform?” I demand, my voice barely above a whisper due to the akuma’s grasp partially cutting off my airway.

Deranged laughter escapes the akuma. Unrestrained triumph shows in every aspect of its stance.

“After I crushed the yellow golem, I found this Toma guy, too. I thought you wouldn’t be able to tell if it was him I copied,” the akuma gloats, indicating Toma’s symmetrical face. “I figured you’d be able to deduce the mirrored aspect, so I put the gray-haired guy’s figure on Toma.”

I grit my teeth and struggle to breathe against the akuma’s tight hold of my neck, but this proves nearly impossible and I feel myself weakening rapidly.

“I’m much smarter than you thought. My skin is duplicate paper. You were completely taken in, Exorcist!” the demon jeers. It splits open its fake skin to reveal its true face, leaving the fake crumpled on the ground.

The akuma raises a claw for the finishing blow, but with Mugen out of my hands, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Instead I stare down my attacker, an inexplicable laughter escaping me before the demon rakes its claws through my stomach.

I scream in overwhelming agony as the curved talons find their mark, leaving huge gashes in my body that would have killed anyone else. But I can’t die, and that’s the worst part of it. Instead I’m left with insufferable pain, left to lean heavily against the dented wall that is perilously close to collapse as my blood sprays the ground around me.

“He’s dead! The Exorcist is dead!” the akuma cheers in jubilation.

I try to look back up, but my vision is hazy and it becomes more and more difficult as the taste of copper floods my mouth and all I feel is unending pain. Still, I swallow back a mouthful of blood, wincing at the awful taste as I make an attempt to speak.

“In your dreams. I can’t die…until I find that person…” I murmur, but my bravado is fading and my eyes threaten to close.

“Die!” the demon cries, cackling as he strikes me again and again.

The akuma is no longer restraining me, but I can’t flee, so I take the blows as best I can. Still, several moans of agony escape me.

_I’ve just got to wait this out…This has to end…eventually,_ I tell myself, using all of my willpower to keep this thought stationed in my head.

With a furious shriek, Allen bursts into the building, grasping the level two with his Innocence claw. He hurls the demon into the adjacent wall, planting himself in between me and the assailant. Unfortunately this does little more than stun the akuma. It leaps to its feet almost instantly, grinning at Allen.

“Ha! No matter how many times you try, it’s useless,” he sneers.

Nevertheless, Allen strikes the akuma once more, this time with enough force to send it flying through several houses before skidding to a halt, where it lies winded.

The threat seems taken care of for now. Allen deactivates his arm and rushes over to me, grasping my wrist as he checks for a pulse.

“Kanda!” he calls my name desperately.

My strength finally fails along with my adrenaline, and I slump into a sitting position, relieved that the attack is over for the moment.

I allow my eyes to close, using all of my energy simply to inhale and exhale, waiting for the pain to subside.

Suddenly Allen gasps, freezing in astonished relief.

“He’s still alive,” he murmurs, shocked.

_Of course. I can’t die yet,_ I try to say, but the words refuse to form.

Allen’s presence unexpectedly vanishes, and I force my eyes partway open to see him collect Toma before returning with both him and Mugen.

“We can’t stay here,” Allen reasons, looking back to where the akuma landed.

The young Exorcist slides Mugen back into its sheathe before hauling me upright, being careful to avoid my injuries as he takes hold of my arm.

Once I’m on my feet again, I reach over and take hold of Allen’s shoulder with one hand, holding tightly onto it for support, while my other hand lies limply at my side.

As I struggle to keep my balance, I notice puncture marks in Allen’s side, as well. They’re not long gashes, but holes, as if the akuma tries to grab him, impaling him in the process.

 _He’s injured, too,_ I realize. I peer at Toma, who is half-conscious and slung over Allen’s shoulder, at myself, who can’t fight in this state, and at the newbie, who is struggling to carry both of us with wounds of his own. _How long can we last like this? With our slow pace, it won’t be long before the akuma catches up._

The demon’s hysterical cries carry over to us as we duck into an alley, spewing insults and curses after us in frustration. The sound sends chills up my spine, and I know the akuma itself can’t be far behind.

After a moment of fearful silence, Toma finally speaks up.

“Mr. Walker, please leave me here,” he requests, his voice tight with pain. “You must be injured, too. Please leave me here.”

“This is nothing,” Allen reassures him cheerfully, an obvious lie. It’s clear he’s struggling to carry both of us and his chest shudders slightly with every breath, signaling his injuries are hurting him more than he’s letting on.

The akuma’s shrieking voice fluctuates in volume as he darts through the streets, his laughter growing more and more insane as he continues with no results.

 _Toma and I will only slow Allen down. He’ll stand a much better chance if he’s on his own,_ I conclude.

“The ghost of Mater was a doll. They ran off. There’s got to be a hiding place nearby. Go after them,” I croak. Allen looks down at me hesitantly.

“Before going after the doll, I’d like to—” Allen stops, standing perfectly still. “I can hear a song,” he whispers, kneeling closer to the ground.

Allen relinquishes his hold on Toma and me. I collapse onto the pavement, trying to catch my breath. I strain my ears and faintly hear the noise Allen was talking about: a sweet, soft lullaby.

“Why from below?” Allen mutters to himself, running his hands over the stones in the road. He freezes after a few seconds of this with his hand raised above a section of pavement. “Wind from underground…”

Allen digs his fingers into a crack in the rock and lifts up what is revealed to be a trap door leading to a set of stairs in a pitch dark passage below the city.

“This seems like a good hiding place,” Allen declares, hauling Toma and me into the abyss.

I’m concerned about what else may be lurking below the streets, but conclude that this is our best option when I hear the akuma’s voice calling for us off in the distance.

Timcanpy becomes our guide, although after a few collisions with the wall, I highly doubt he can actually see any better than we can. The song grows significantly louder as we traverse the passage, the calming melody growing clearer as we descend.

After what seems like an eternity of walking blind in the darkness, the staircase opens up into a large, sandy clearing.

The room is lined with circular pillars and what looks like the ruins of a stadium surrounding the sandy pit in the middle of an open space. The roof has partially caved in, leaving the center of the stadium open to the silver-blue hue of the moonlight. Its radiance illuminates the three figures before us like a spotlight, none of whom notice our entrance.

Guzol lies before Lala with his head resting on her lap, evidentially sleeping. Lala has removed her hood, exposing knee-length golden hair that shimmers in the moonlight. Her bangs have also fallen to the side, revealing bandages that cover her left eye.

The third person is a girl I don’t recognize. It’s so dark that it’s impossible to tell much about the girl’s appearance, but I can observe that her raven-colored hair is done in a braid that reaches midway down her back and a streak of her hair is a curious navy blue color. She’s much taller than both of her counterparts, probably just shy of 6’.

All of us are still, enchanted by Lala’s singing. I make note of a few odd metal pieces sticking up above Lala’s hairline, running Guzol’s description of Mater’s ghost doll through my mind again. _A doll that can sing and dance,_ I recall, finally realizing Lala’s true identity.

Lala finishes the verse and the black-haired girl looks up and sees us, her eyes widening in horror. She frantically taps Lala’s shoulder. The doll and Guzol separate, turning to face us.

“You came,” Lala says, her face hardening.

“So you’re the doll, the ghost of Mater,” Allen murmurs in surprise, his brain coming to the same conclusion as mine.

Lala nods, her face setting in determination before she rises to her feet. The doll grasps one of the supporting pillars, which are at least twenty feet tall and four feet wide, and chucks it in our direction.

“Hey, wait!” Allen yelps, dodging. He gently props Toma and I up against the nearest wall and lunges towards Lala, ready for a fight.

I feel someone’s eyes on me and turn to see the strange black-haired girl staring in my direction. Her eyes widen once she notices our wounds and she rushes up behind Lala, who is about to hurl another pillar at Allen. The girl takes a firm hold of Lala’s shoulder with one hand and grips her arm with the other to restrain her. Lala looks over her shoulder at the girl, who shakes her head urgently.

 _She must not want to fight with injured people nearby,_ I realize. _It’s stupid of her to get involved. She could get killed if she intervenes._

Lala ignores the girl’s warning and uses her free arm to throw her backwards and out of the fight. The girl lands heavily and lies winded for a second before leaping to her feet.

Insurmountable exhaustion grips me and I can no longer keep my eyes pried open, so I let my head fall onto my left shoulder and feel my consciousness slipping away. Still, the throbbing pain from my wounds makes nodding off a challenge, and I’m still aware enough to feel the ground shake from the effects on the building from the fight.

I know that I should stay awake and alert in case Allen is beaten and I’m forced to take over, but I’m so overwhelmingly tired that I can’t help but drift off.

But as soon as I begin to doze, all that greets me is the sight of a lotus flower. One petal falls from the blossom, followed by another as they drift down into the blanket of mud below. Eleven petals left.

My eyes fly open to the sound of footsteps hurrying in my direction. My blurred vision can only make out two stormy blue-gray eyes peering into mine.

______________________________________________

I stare down at the half-conscious people before me, trying to decide my next course of action. _Lala won’t listen, so I’ll just do what I can to help,_ I decide, but I’m at a loss of where to start.

All three of the newcomers look bedraggled and are caked in dust, although the blue-haired boy sitting directly in front of me and the Finder have the worst injuries.

The boy’s hair is stick straight and dark blue, hanging loosely to the small of his back. His face is long and narrow with sharp, pointed features and narrow eyes. His yellow-tinted skin is pallid from blood loss and his eyes are tightly shut, as if he’s trapped in a nightmare.

His wounds appear to be the more severe between him and his companions: deep, long gashes sliced through his front that steadily seep blood through the rips in his strange uniform. I can hardly believe he survived such an attack, but after the day I’ve had, questioning the impossible is the last thing on my mind.

I inch closer to the boy to get a better look at his injuries, but his blue-tinted black eyes snap open, gaining a defensive glare when they focus on me.

 _I want to help you,_ I wish I could say. To demonstrate I’m not a threat, I put one hand on the boy’s shoulder and the other on his lips to wipe off a trickle of blood.

The boy is still wary of me, but seems to understand from this gesture that I want to help him, so he lets his head fall back against the wall and only watches to see what I’m going to do next.

I remove the dusty backpack from my shoulder and dig through its contents, retrieving a container of bandages and a sponge before tossing it aside. I walk over and drop the sponge into a shallow pool of clear water left by the last thunderstorm, willing it to soak up the liquid quickly. In the meantime, I return to my patient and gently remove his heavy coat and blood-spattered white shirt.

I notice an oddly-shaped tattoo implanted on the boy’s chest, but I don’t think much of it. Its pattern is a symbol I recognize from an old history lesson as being an altered form of the Hinduism symbol _Om_ , and it is encased in a circle of black flames.

 _Maybe it has to do with whatever the uniform is for,_ I speculate, but can’t voice my question.

Now that I can see the boy’s wounds more clearly, I scuttle back over to the pool and take the soaked sponge from it.

Next I put my hand on the shoulder of the half-conscious boy and hold the sponge in front of him. _This will hurt. I’m sorry,_ I think.

The boy’s eyes focus of the object and he nods, bracing himself. His moan of pain when I allow the first drops of water to enter the slashes is muffled by his tightly-clamped teeth, but his companion, still locked in battle with Lala, hears and looks over.

Lala uses the momentary distraction to sit and regain her energy, which has been significantly depleted by the scuffle.

The gray-haired boy’s eyes fill with anger and hatred when he sees me kneeling over his companion, presumably to cause harm. It’s not as if I can tell him otherwise.

My eyes open wide with shock as his arm transforms into an enormous metal claw that reaches over and pins me to the wall behind me by the throat.

I struggle vainly against the white-haired boy’s grip, but I’m no match for whatever supernatural power he has at his disposal and am hopelessly trapped. Breathing is a chore, and my lungs begin to burn from lack of oxygen as I continue to claw at the fingers fastened around my neck.

“No! Leave them alone!” the white-haired boy shouts at me.

“Stop, idiot,” the blue-haired boy rasps. “She’s helping me.”

“Kanda…” the gray-haired boy murmurs uncertainly.

I see several black spots come across my vision and stop squirming to see if I will be released. After a moment of hesitation, the gray-haired boy relinquishes his grip. My leg are unable to support my weight and I fall to all-fours, coughing and spluttering for a minute as my empty lungs gulp in oxygen.

The world swoops around me in a nausea-inducing fashion before my vision gradually returns to normal. The trembling in my limbs mostly fades as well, though I’m still a little shaky when I conclude it’s safe to stand again and stumble back over to the boy whom I presume to be Kanda.

My patient seems to have improved somewhat; his eyes are steady and focused, though it’s still evident that he’s worn out. He continues to battle against the lulling pull of sleep. I have to commend his stubbornness.

As I resume my work, a loud crash indicates that the previous fight has resumed. I mentally compare the two combatants. _Lala is amazingly strong, but these guys are on a whole other level,_ I muse, recalling the newcomers’ odd weapons. _Be very careful, Lala._

I wring out the sponge several more times, letting the water drip into Kanda’s wounds to clean them as best I can. I’m encouraged by the fact that he’s aware enough to react to the pain, but I wish I could do more to ease his discomfort.

After I’ve rinsed out the wound, I gently press one of the spare bandages against the giant gashes in Kanda’s stomach to clear away any extra blood. His eyes follow my hands as I progress, and I make a concentrated effort to keep his pain level to a minimum.

Once I finish this, I snugly wrap several layers of bandages around Kanda’s wounds, then fish through my bag for another item. I retrieve the leaf of a plant that I’ve found growing only in the city of Mater. I’ve figured out that the herb works as a fantastic painkiller, so I pull the leaf out of my backpack and hold it in front of my patient. Kanda turns his head away, untrusting of the strange plant.

Sympathizing with his uncertainty, I tear off a tiny fragment of the leaf and pop it into my mouth. I swallow and open my arms in a _see, it’s safe_ gesture.

Reassured that it’s nontoxic, Kanda accepts the plant, wincing at the bitter taste as he forces it down.

Satisfied that Kanda’s condition is becoming stable, I turn to his companion. His face is largely concealed by bandages that cover his mouth and nose, but I suspect they hide scars, not recent injuries, so I leave them alone. I do wish that I could better view his face; only his peculiar dark eyes are visible. Still, he radiates kindness, so I don’t bother to worry if he will lash out.

After a brief examination, I conclude that his wounds are relatively minor, primarily consisting of a myriad of bruises. The only injury that causes me real concern is a gruesome blow to his head, which may have given him a concussion.

The man is awake while I treat him, but remains silent until I’ve finished.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and I smile in return.

Since I’m out of the fight and the danger seems to have passed for now, I take the opportunity to tap into my inner power and assess the newcomers.

I peer into the Finder first to discover his warm-heartedness is genuine, and while his soul is battered from years of working a perilous job, his suffering has made him wiser and stronger. Despite the current situation, I can’t help but begin to trust him.

Next I examine the white-haired boy locked in combat with Lala. I see genuine kindness in him too, but it’s different from the Finder’s. His is of a more optimistic, childish nature, the kind that has been doggedly instilled in oneself to guard against cynicism. Of course, a portion of that darkness remains, but it is forced back by firm ideals of peace and loyalty. I realize that I trust him, as well, far more than I should at this juncture.

Lastly, I peer into Kanda’s soul. I am bombarded by a fierce wave of anger and distrust. A cruel thirst for vengeance slices into me until I feel every ounce of anguish pulsing through my body. I see dark ambition, a way of thinking that turns the world into an inescapable land of nightmares. But this is not the person who saved me, who showed me mercy despite being an enemy, so I dig deeper. Buried beneath that layer of hate is something softer, warmhearted. But that is instinctively guarded and out of my reach, so I withdraw. I am still apprehensive of him, but that is breached by curiosity, an inexplicable desire to discover more about him.

Suddenly the stadium falls deadly silent, and the three of us simultaneously turn to see what’s caused the lack of commotion.

It appears Lala and the strange boy are caught in a stalemate, grasping opposite ends of the same pillar. Only it becomes obvious that the boy’s grip is more relaxed, while Lala shifts positions to try to gain better leverage, without success.

 _Lala won’t be able to win this,_ I infer, panic fluttering inside me. I start to rise to step in and help my friend, but I haven’t the slightest clue on how to get the advantage and the boy’s behavior is deeply puzzling. _He could beat her if he wanted to. Why doesn’t he?_

“If there’s a problem, please tell me,” the boy says softly as Lala struggles to gain control of the pillar. “I can’t fight against a cute girl.”

Lala’s eyes fly wide with surprise and she releases her hold on the pillar before collapsing on the ground in despair.

The boy is as surprised as I am at her aggression’s abrupt disappearance. He sets the pillar on the ground before bending over Lala, his face revealing uncertain.

“Guzol will die soon,” Lala says, her voice thick with sorrow. “Please don’t separate me from him until then. I’ll let you have my heart afterwards.”

I bow my head, forcing back my emotions. _I can’t lose these two. Please don’t take them from me,_ I plead silently. But Lala seemed to have her mind set on this since the Finders first explained their predicament, cryptic as that discussion was. _Why is Innocence so important that people are willing to kill and be killed for it?_

Lala retreats back to where Guzol is resting, sitting on a set of steps near the far wall. The mysterious boy follows behind, and the three sit calmly near the edge of the stadium, conversing in voices too low for us to hear distinctly. Lala waves to me, beckoning my presence.

I tilt my head to Kanda and the Finder, raising my eyebrows in question. _Are you well enough to move?_ Both nod their heads yes, so while the Finder stands on his own without much difficulty, I hoist Kanda to his feet, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady.

The Finder manages well for a few steps before swaying to one side. I offer my other shoulder and he accepts with a grateful smile.

The gray-haired boy looks back at us and sees me struggling to support both of his comrades, then immediately comes to my aid. He takes Kanda and leads him towards my friends when I notice the bloody punctures in his side.

With my free hand, I tap the boy’s shoulder and point to his wounds. It takes him a moment to comprehend my wordless question, but he flashes me a cheerful grin and shakes his head.

“I’m fine. Sorry for earlier, by the way,” he apologizes, and I wave my hand to dismiss the incident. _These people seem nice,_ I think regretfully, wondering if we would be friends if our situations were different.

The gray-haired boy halts a few meters away from Lala and Guzol, lowering Kanda onto the ground. He removes his long uniform to reveal a simple collared shirt and long pants underneath, folding up the coat for his comrade to use as a headrest. Kanda appears to fall asleep almost instantly.

I guide the Finder to them, where he settles cross-legged beside his co-workers, listening attentively.

I retreat to where Guzol sits on the stadium steps with Lala perched on his lap, leaning comfortably against his chest. I take a seat to their right, fiddling my hands while I wait for someone to continue the conversation.

Lala gives me an encouraging smile, which I’m almost certain Guzol duplicates behind the absurd mask we’ve used to hide his identity. I can’t return the gesture, knowing what will surely come to pass soon.

“Did you know that the city of Mater used to be called the ‘land forsaken by God?’” Lala begins.

“Yes, I heard,” the gray-haired boy replies.

“The city residents expanded their living spaces underground in order to avoid the torturous climate. They kept digging for years and found what you refer to as Innocence,” Lala elaborates. “With it they created a doll that would distract them from those hard days for a brief time, a doll that would sing and dance…”

“Even when the city went to ruin several hundred years later and there was no one left to hear the song, the doll continued performing,” Lala says. “One day, a boy arrived in Mater. Having no family to look after him, he wandered about until he came to this ruined city.”

I recall this story well, right down to what Lala first asked Guzol when she stumbled across him in an alley the night they met. _Little boy, would you like to hear a song?_

According to Lala, her appearance had become severely disheveled from years of wandering alone. Her hair was matted and dusty and left eye had been partially ripped from its socket, molding her into a terrifying ghostly figure that frightened everyone else that came across her. In fact, the other people that had come to the city had attacked Lala when she offered to perform, and she ended up killing them as a result.

But her appearance didn’t faze Guzol, and he asked her to sing with tears in his eyes from the kindness of her offer. _Please sing, Miss Ghost!_ Guzol pleaded, and the two have remained companions ever since.

Lala once added that singing for Guzol that time felt as if light had shone upon her for the first time in 500 years, that he brought her out of the darkness of the phantom rumors and made her feel lively again.

“Several decades have passed since then, and Guzol has stayed with me all this time,” Lala finishes. “And about a year ago, Evelyn joined us.”

I found Guzol and Lala the evening after I was dumped just outside Matera, or rather they found me, starving and weary as I walked aimlessly through the ruins. It was when they asked me for my name that I discovered I could no longer speak. I could effortlessly form the sentence in my mind, but the words refused to exit my lips. Instead I grew accustomed to writing in the dirt with a stick when I had a question that was too complex to mime.

Despite this complication, the pair took me under their wing without hesitation and we’ve lived together for almost exactly twelve months. They’ve become trusted friends to me, and we’ve taken care of each other through the harsh climate of the abandoned city.

My reminiscing is interrupted by a harsh bout of coughing from Guzol. Blood trickles from beneath his mask. Lala cups his face between her hands, distress in her gaze.

“Are you okay, Guzol?” she demands.

Genuine concern crosses the faces of the newcomers. But they are incapable of helping him, as am I. Guzol’s sickness is something far beyond my capability to heal. My heart wrenches with every ragged cough that fills the air.

Guzol begins to keel forward, so I reach a hand out to steady him. He rests his hand briefly over mine in a gesture of thanks before straightening again.

“Lala, please stay by my side until the end and allow me to stop you with my own hands when I die,” Guzol rasps.

“Of course. I’m your doll,” Lala murmurs, resting her head contentedly over Guzol’s heart. “Guzol will soon be unable to move, His heartbeats are getting weaker and weaker,” she says to the rest of us, her face growing somber. “So please let me stay with them a little while longer, until the end.”

Lala extends her hand to me and I take it without question, linking her metal fingers through my own.

“In all the time I’ve lived here, Guzol and Evelyn were the only ones who accepted me, so please wait. You can take my heart once Guzol dies,” Lala promises.

I tense, forcing back the tears that threaten to make an appearance. Lala notices and squeezes my hand in an offer of comfort. It only succeeds in intensifying my sadness.

The gray-haired boy ducks his head as if he’s about to agree when a new voice speaks up from behind him.

“We can’t let you,” Kanda says firmly, sitting up beside his comrades. “Wait until the old man dies? We don’t know when the akuma will find us here,” he reasons harshly. “We don’t have time for that!”

The gray-haired boy’s head snaps towards him in astonishment. He opens his mouth to protest before Kanda cuts him off.

“What did we come here for?! Take that doll’s heart now!” he shouts, then falls silent, breathing hard.

The gray-haired boy stands and angles towards us. His hands shake as he balls them into fists. I stiffen, deliberating my next move if he attacks.

“I can’t,” the boy refuses. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to.”

Kanda grabs the boy’s uniform, which is still lying beside him, and throws it at him. The gray-haired boy catches it and looks warily down at his enraged companion.

“That coat wasn’t made for an injured person to use as a pillow. It’s made to be worn by Exorcists!” Kanda shouts. He rises to his feet and slips his own blood-spattered uniform over his shoulders, walking steadily towards the gray-haired boy before stopping adjacent to him. “Sacrifice is what leads to salvation, newbie,” he says more gently, his face hardening as he advances towards my friends.

“Please don’t take it!” Lala pleads.

Kanda ignore her, drawing his sword and aiming it straight at the center of her chest. His slouched stance and grip on the weapon are rather odd; his right hand grips the katana’s handle while the other presses against the bandages. It’s poor form and an awkward way to handle the weapon, but it doesn’t make him any less dangerous.

Guzol holds Lala tighter in his arms, curling his body around hers as if he intends to protect her through sheer force of will. In turn, Lala buries her face in Guzol’s chest, her fingers trembling violently beneath mine. I tighten my hold to help steady her. But there’s nothing any of us can do against an armed adversary that will ensure a bloodless outcome.

 _Still, I can’t let it end like this,_ I decide. I launch myself in front of Lala and Guzol, shielding their bodies with my own.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kanda asks in amazement, relaxing his grip on the sword slightly. “Move!”

He spits the last word, but I stand my ground, staring unblinkingly at him, splaying out my arms in a clear gesture of defiance. _If you want to kill them, you’ll have to go through me first._

“Then I’ll be the one,” the gray-haired boy challenges. He pulls on his black and white coat and stares down his companion. “Would you be satisfied if I became the ‘sacrifice’ for these two? They just want to meet their end in the way they want.”

I assess the boy’s resolute facial expression, left aghast by his offer. _He’s being serious,_ I realize.

“As long as I destroy the akuma, there’s no problem, right?” he demands. “A battle won by making great sacrifices is a hollow victory.”

Kanda’s eyes narrow to slits of rage and he punches the boy in the jaw. The blow is heavy enough to send him sprawling backwards onto the stony floor. Kanda clutches his side and slumps to the ground beside the boy, his face taut with pain.

“Mr. Kanda! Mr. Walker!” the Finder calls worriedly, but keeps several paces back in case they lash out.

I hardly dare to breathe, remaining perfectly still in for fear of setting off their anger again.

 _How can I get Guzol and Lala out of here?_ I contemplate hurriedly, grateful for the momentary reprieve. _Guzol can barely walk, so making a break for it is out. Our best bet is to wait until they’re too absorbed in their argument to notice._ It’s a long shot, but time is short and we’re running out of options.

I gently tug on Lala’s arm, holding up a single finger when her wide blue eyes turn to me. I move half a step to the right, towards the stairs, in indication that we’ll be leaving soon. Lala and Guzol nod in understanding. They sit in tense silence and wait for my signal.

“How ridiculously optimistic you are!” Kanda snarls at the boy, who hasn’t raised himself off the ground yet. “You’d sell a piece of yourself for others just because you feel sorry for them?! Don’t you cherish anything?!”

“I lost what I cherished a long time ago,” the boy replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He sits up to face the rest of us, a red mark already forming from where Kanda struck him. “Feeling sorry…my reasons aren’t anything nice like that. I just don’t want to see such things, that’s all. My heart tends to turn to what’s in front of me rather than the vast world. I can’t abandon them if there’s even a possibility that I can protect them!”

The wall behind us crumbles, centuries-old rock flying in all directions as a huge claw resembling a trident crashes through it. I don’t even have time to turn around before it rips through Guzol and Lala, barely puncturing the middle of my back.

“Guzol,” Lala breathes before the akuma withdraws its arm, ripping her hand from my grasp.

The demon’s clawed grip in my back is not enough to drag me backwards as well, but the talon exits my body swiftly enough to cause me to trip.

Little pricks of pain jab into my back, but I can already tell it’s a minor injury. I ignore the sting and scramble back to my feet to face the huge gap in the wall my friends disappeared into.

 _No, no, no,_ I plead silently. My eyes can’t penetrate the darkness beyond the gaping hole. I can’t even see Lala and Guzol, let alone pull them to safety.

Those of us left in the stadium are all mute with shock until an indistinct shape darts into the room, submerging itself in the thick layer of sand coating most of the stadium floor. A raised bubble of sand scuttles around the arena. It doesn’t appear to have a final destination and changes directions at random.

Suddenly the akuma bursts through the ground some distance behind Kanda, the gray-haired boy, and the Finder. I take note of its joker-like theme: the wide, deranged eyes, the gaping mouth and absurdly long tongue. It fits the description Guzol and Lala gave me after they escaped the demons and made it back here, meaning we likely stand little chance against it.

The monster raises itself up to its full height, twirling a small glowing object between its fingers. The item consists of two gears orbiting a luminous sphere, all encased inside a transparent container with wires extending from both sides. _That’s Lala’s heart,_ I realize in horror.

“I’ve got the Innocence!” the akuma cries jubilantly, holding the luminescent object up to his face for closer inspection.

Two shapes hit the ground before the demon’s feet, landing with a noise that clatters like bones. _No!_ I clamp my hand over my mouth as I recognize the bodies of Lala and Guzol.

“L…Lala…Lala…” Guzol moans, trembling as he reaches over in an attempt to rouse her.

I dash forward to reach them, but the Finder puts his arm out to bar my way.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. “It’s too late for that.”

“I see…So this is Innocence,” the akuma says, intrigued with the glowing metal heart in his clawed fingers.

Fury rises through me like a tidal wave and I lunge forward to fight the akuma, but Kanda takes hold of me as I sprint past him. He swings me back around away from the akuma, successfully restraining me while I struggle against his grip.

“If you go over there, the akuma will kill you,” he warns.

 _Let go!_ I snarl internally, elbowing Kanda in the side. He hisses in pain and his arms loosen, allowing me to get free and sprint towards my friends.

Before I can reach them, the akuma’s leering eyes focus on me and narrow, the corners of his mouth creeping up in delight.

“Another piece of Innocence,” he grins, staring directly at me. “I must have missed you before.”

 _Me? Innocence? What’s he talking about?_ I think, but there’s no time to delve further when the demon raises its hand back to strike me.

“Get out of there!” the gray-haired boy hollers as the akuma swings its claws in my direction.

Terror makes me quick and I leap to the side and dodge the worst of the blow, but the monster still backhands me hard enough to send me flying halfway across the stadium. I land heavily on my back and skid several meters before stopping, a screech of pain escaping me as sand lodges itself in my wound from before.

Still, the pain only makes me angrier and I scramble to my feet again, preparing myself in case the monster attacks me again. I’ve been thrown far enough that I’m adjacent to the Finder, who scrutinizes my face in concern.

My attention turns to the gray-haired boy as his left arm begins to emit a sinister purple light. It transforms, but not into the claw from before. Instead it morphs into something unrecognizable, a pulsating mess of bloated metal. His eye has changed as well, with a jet black sclera and a red bulls-eye for an iris.

His aura smolders in fury unlike any I’ve ever seen, even causing the akuma to take a hesitant step backwards.

“Give that Innocence back!” he shouts.

The boy’s arm twists and snaps in odd directions, a sickening melody without any clear ending in sight.

“He’s rebuilding his anti-akuma weapon. Parasite Type Exorcists can manipulate their weapons with their emotions,” Kanda explains, both for the Finder’s and my sakes. “The Innocence is reacting to his anger. It’s becoming a manifestation of his hatred.”

 _What on earth is a Parasite type?_ I wonder in confusion.

The gray-haired boy leaps high into the air, preparing to bring his wrath down on the akuma. I haven’t the slightest idea what he plans to do without a fully-formed weapon, and evidentially neither does Kanda.

“Idiot! The weapon’s transformation isn’t complete yet!” he yells, but immediately after the words exit his mouth, the boy’s arm settles into the shape of a cannon.

The akuma lets out a bloodcurdling scream as several shining missiles fire from the cannon protruding from the boy’s shoulder. The gray-haired stranger ceases firing after the demon disappears within a mountain of spear-like bullets, landing on the highest point in the stack to regroup.

The gray-haired boy glances down at the mangled bodies of Lala and Guzol before snapping his gaze back to the lump of sand escaping the spear stack, now skittering around on the ground.

“You can’t destroy me with a thing like that while I’m in sand!” the akuma taunts, laughing insanely.

The boy is thrown off of the pile of shining missiles as an arm similar to the original form of his anti-akuma weapon emerges from the ground, destroying the missiles, though fortunately missing the boy. Instead, a giant bloated sand monster appears under him as he falls through the air, swallowing him in sand.

The demon’s new form retains the metal arm from before, but the rest of its body is bloated like a balloon with sand, and its head is like that of a mummy with soulless white eyes.

“Gotcha! This is it for you!” the akuma jeers. Suddenly his face gains a more demented light and he glances down at his solid arm in awe. “I wonder how many stabs it will take before you die!” Laughing hysterically, the akuma stabs itself though the sand, attempting to guess where the boy must be buried.

I reach out with my mind to see if the boy is alive to find his heartbeat strong and his mind buzzing with a plan.

A rumbling sound reaches my ears as something stirs inside the akuma. Sure enough, the gray-haired boy emerges from the sand body, holding his anti-akuma weapon aloft.

“He shot from inside?!” Kanda exclaims in astonishment.

The boy fires at the demon once again, hundreds of bullets assaulting its upper body. The akuma raises its hand towards its face in an attempt to block the attacks, which lessens the force of the impacts somewhat.

In response, the boy reshapes his arm until it resembles a sword; a single solid beam of light extending from the narrowed barrel of the gun. Screaming in fury, the gray-haired boy slices the akuma down the middle, cutting down the thick layer of sand coating its body.

“The sand skin…” the akuma mutters to itself, whipping its head from side to side in a blind panic. “Sand! Sand!” it shrieks, burying itself underground once more.

“I won’t give you time to copy it!” the boy vows. “I’ll blow you apart!”

“But I still have your arm!” the akuma sneers.

It raises up its metal claw to shield its face from a hail of missiles when the boy reshapes his weapon back to the bazooka. But the monster’s power is no match for the boy’s and holes begin to spread throughout the demon’s arm.

“Dammit, why?!” it curses with a foul grimace. “Why am I about to lose when I’m using the same power as him?!”

“That’s your limit,” Kanda murmurs, half to himself. “Even if it’s the same weapon, it’s used by different beings. The only ones who can use Anti-Akuma Weapons to their full capacity are the Exorcists, who are the Accommodators of Innocence. Akuma can’t synchronize with Innocence like Exorcists can.”

I still don’t understand half of what he’s saying, but I listen intently, fascinated by the intricate world these people must navigate.

The gray-haired boy’s weapon abruptly falls silent, retracting into the shape of a human arm. The boy staggers backwards as blood spews from his mouth and he drops to his knees, shaking noticeably as he clutches his arm.

“A rebound? Can’t my body keep up with the evolved weapon?” he mutters.

The akuma blinks in confusion, astonished by the unexpected turn of the fight. With the boy’s defenses down, the demon gains a victorious grin and springs towards him.

“I win!” he bellows, reaching out with claws extended.

Kanda shoots from my side and plants himself in front of the boy, restraining the akuma’s arm with his sword. He still only utilizes his right arm to support the weapon. The other goes to his side as fresh blood soaks through the bandages.

 _He’ll bleed to death if he keeps that up!_ I think worriedly.

“You wimp! Don’t throw in the towel at a critical moment like this. If you keep fighting like this, you’ll be a bean sprout for the rest of your life! It was you who said you would protect those two, wasn’t it?” Kanda growls. His voice is quiet, but steady. “I hate overoptimistic people like you, but I hate those who don’t keep their word even more!”

The gray-haired boys sighs, a humorless laugh escaping him.

“Either way, you hate me,” he mutters. “It’s not that I’m throwing in the towel. I just took a little break,” he says with a hint of a smile.

A beat of incredulous silence passes.

“Every little thing you say annoys me,” Kanda mumbles, resuming the fight as he slices off the demon’s hand. The akuma screams in response, but the fight isn’t over yet.

“Please give me one more shot,” the gray-haired boy whispers, holding his left hand over his heart. The cross implanted on the back of his hand glows neon green and his arm transforms into the gun within an instant.

“Netherworld creature, Ichigen!” Kanda commands. A swarm of hellish insects materialize at the tip of his blade.

“Vanish!” the Exorcists scream in unison, firing at the akuma.

Both attacks hit with tremendous force, putting a lot of strain both on the demon and the building. The wall directly behind the akuma is already unstable. It begins to collapse under the duress.

“Damn Exorcists!” the akuma shrieks, and its body disintegrates into nothingness.

With the monster no longer present to absorb the last of the blow, the entire stadium reaps the consequences and shakes violently, sending chunks of rock crashing to the floor from the rotting walls and ceiling.

I’m thrown on the ground as the arena trembles from the falling rubble. I throw my arms over my head to shield myself from any falling debris.

This continues for several minutes. When the worst of it seems to be over, I cautiously raise my head and look around to locate everyone else.

The Finder is unconscious beside me, but his breathing is regular and he doesn’t appear to be seriously hurt.

Kanda and the boy are also out for the count, lying face-down near the center of the stadium. The gray-haired Exorcist rises first, and both of our eyes laser on the glowing object in front of him.

“One more time…One more time, I want Lala to…” he croaks, making his way over to the doll on unsteady feet. I stumble along behind, forcing my quaking legs to keep moving.

It’s plain to see that Lala is long gone when I approach. Her eyes are closed, her limbs splayed in odd directions and her body completely motionless.

Guzol isn’t much better off, but his rattling breaths reach my ears and I hobble towards him, relief coursing through me that he’s still alive. His mask has been misplaced, revealing his mangled face. His left eye is swollen shut and his facial structure is irregular and misshapen. This is due to a physical deformity he’s had since birth. His new injuries consist fresh bruises and lacerations, making the rest of his features hardly recognizable. His breathing is shallow and slight. It’s clear he won’t live much longer.

I gently tug on Guzol’s sleeve to let him know I’m here. His good, pale blue eye gazes up at me and he attempts a smile, but fails as blood trickles from between his lips. _I’m so, so sorry,_ I wish I could say.

To my right, the gray-haired boy opens a hatch that I never noticed before in Lala’s chest and fits the Innocence inside, connecting the torn wires with trembling fingers. Then he moves backwards a few feet and waits patiently.

I stare in utter astonishment as Lala raises her head and looks up at us. _You’re all right!_ I exclaim inwardly, ecstatic that she can move again. I start to close the distance between us, but stop when I catch sight of Lala’s unblinking, vacuous eyes.

She angles herself towards Guzol and me, crawling on all fours until she reaches us and sits back on her knees.

“Mr. and Miss Human, would you like to hear a song?” the doll inquires, her voice nothing but an empty monotone.

Tears begin to stream from Guzol’s eyes. Affection fills his gaze as he grasps the doll’s hand. _This can’t be. Doesn’t she recognize us?_ I plead silently. I lightly pull on Lala’s arm, but she doesn’t respond and I withdraw, stung.

“Mr. and Miss Human, would you like to hear a song?” the doll asks again. “I’m a doll. I’ll sing a song, Mr. and Miss Human.”

“Lala… I love you…” Guzol murmurs, letting his head fall back onto the sand. I shake his shoulder lightly, desperate to keep him awake, but receive no response.

“Are you going to sleep? I’ll sing you a lullaby,” the doll offers. She opens her mouth and from it comes the song I’ve heard so many times before, the same tune that will fill Guzol’s ears as he dies.

I remain by my friends’ sides until the first verse is over and Guzol is no longer moving. His eyes are shut, his chest fallen still. I tug on his sleeve again and receive no feedback. Guzol is gone, and yet doll continues to sing.

This song used to be an invaluable comfort to me; on homesick nights, when I fell ill, and when I was lonely. Now, I can’t bear to hear the familiar melody, especially since the people I care for so much are no longer present to hear it.

I turn and walk distantly out one of the side doors to the stadium, out under the open night sky. None of the others try follow me. I feel a little relieved at the solitude. Because when I cry, I don’t want them to see.

I run my fingers absently along the stone staircase leading inside the stadium, watching the sun set for the third time since Guzol’s death.

The gray-haired boy sits a few steps below me with his head buried in his knees. He’s been sitting like this for hours, as have I.

A little golden creature flutters beside his head. Its appearance puzzles me a great deal; it’s not any kind of bug I’ve seen, nor does it resemble a bird. It is comprised of some metal, but may contain Innocence, since it seems to be alive. Needless to say, I don’t ask.

Kanda, who disappeared a while earlier, finally returns and takes a seat adjacent to his comrade.

“Why are you sleeping? Keep a close watch on that doll.” The words are harsh, but his voice lacks the edge from their previous argument.

“Oh? What happened to your injuries?” the gray-haired Exorcist asks, indicating the absence of Kanda’s limp and his free use of both arms.

This news surprises me too. But I’ve learned by now not to overly question the paranormal.

“I heal more quickly than most,” Kanda replies quietly.

“For all appearances, they would require at least five months to heal completely,” the boy persists.

“Shut up,” Kanda mutters. “I was able to get in touch with the Order earlier. We got our orders from Komui. We’re heading back to Headquarters after this is over.”

“Got it,” the gray-haired Exorcist says, his tone vacant.

Kanda glances up at his companion, inspecting his facial expression before turning back to face the city.

“If it’s hard on you, go stop that doll,” he says softly. “It’s no longer Lala, right?”

“But it’s the promise between those two,” the gray-haired boy explains. “It has to be Guzol who stops Lala.”

I smile at the boy. I’m incredibly grateful the Exorcists have taken my friends’ promise into consideration, and my distrust of them has begun to diminish.

“You’re too soft. Exorcists are destroyers, not saviors,” Kanda points out bitterly.

“I know, but I want to be a destroyer that saves,” the boy declares with a small smile.

A powerful gust of wind blows from inside the stadium, buffeting those of us sitting on the front steps.

Then all is quiet.

Kanda, the boy, and I exchange a tense glance and head back to the stadium, halting in the open doorway. We are joined by the Finder, who has remained in the arena for most of today.

The doll is still kneeling in the center of the clearing, only now her voice has decrescendoed into silence. Her head is held aloft and her mouth still open as if she stopped mid-song. Her sightless eyes stare up into the starlit sky.

Kanda and the Finder remain in the doorway, but I approach Lala and Guzol. The gray-haired boy follows more hesitantly. I drop to my knees beside Lala, preparing to admit defeat, when I feel a soft tug on my arm.

“Thank you for letting me sing until I broke down. I was able to keep my promise,” Lala murmurs, angling her head to gaze upon me with eyes filled with wisdom. “And Evelyn, thank you for your friendship. I wish for you to one day find your voice again. I would so love to hear you sing.”

Lala’s eyes dull and she collapses, her body crumpling into my arms. I part my lips and mouth the words to her song, all of which I know by heart. I try to force my voice to cooperate. But the sound just refuses to come, still locked in the miserable little corner of my heart I left in Denmark what feels like such a long time ago.

_I couldn’t save her or Guzol. I can’t even carry out Lala’s final wish,_ I tell myself. The thought sends me into hysterics. I gently lower Lala’s body onto the sandy floor, shut my eyes tightly to block out the sight, and let the tears come.

After a moment of this, the gray-haired boy takes a tentative step in my direction, bending over me in concern.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

In my peripheral vision, I glimpse the boy reaching to put his hand on my shoulder. The instant his fingers make contact, I slap his hand away, glaring venomously at him as all of my anger and heartbreak spills over.

The boy is stunned for a moment, motionless before he bends down beside Lala and removes the Innocence from her chest. Suddenly the object falls from his hand, rolling in my direction before bumping into my leather boot.

I look up in wonder as the Innocence glows much more brightly than it did before. Its green light illuminates the entire stadium like a miniature star.

Kanda walks over and takes the Innocence in his hand, his eyes narrowing as they flit between the item and me.

“I think it’s reacting to you,” he says to me. He holds the Innocence out in my direction. It glows so much brighter I’m afraid it might burst. “Your body contains Innocence.”

_That would explain why the akuma referred to me as Innocence earlier,_ I realize before panic sets in. _Does that mean the Exorcists want to take my Innocence, too?_

I realize I’m going to have to leave Mater, probably keep on the move for an indefinite amount of time. _If one akuma was drawn to Lala’s and my Innocence, more will surely come. I won’t let myself be killed or go through some painful extraction process so these Exorcists can take my Innocence. I’ll have to run for it._

I rise to my feet and move swiftly for the exit. I’m not sure where I’ll escape to; I don’t exactly have anywhere else familiar to go.

The gray-haired boy cuts off my escape and catches me, his arms keeping me stationary. _Get off!_ I shout internally, punching him so hard that he tumbles backwards. He lies motionless on the ground and stays on there, winded, for several moments.

Free from his grip, I dash toward the exit, but this time Kanda stands in my way. His eyes are filled surprise and anticipation as he waits for me to make a move.

I shift into a defensive position and assess my chances of escape. They’re not good, but if I don’t free myself, I’m going to die anyway. I bare my teeth at Kanda like the feral creature I am. It’s not much, but the message is clear; move or die.

“Hang on a second!” the gray-haired boy requests, having regained his footing. “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Unconvinced, I whip my head around to glare at him. Still, this boy has proven thus far to be an honest person, so I choose to wait for an explanation. I relax my stance slightly.

“Your Innocence is different from Lala’s,” Kanda starts. “Lala was a slave to the Innocence; she couldn’t live without it, and yet she couldn’t control it.”

_Does that mean I’m like the Exorcists? Will I be forced to become one of them?_ I wonder anxiously. _I’m terrified of the monster from before._ I shudder as the image of the demented joker appears in my brain. _I don’t think I’m brave enough to face them on a regular basis. But what choice do I really have?_

“Your Innocence is connected to you and you can control it, if you know how,” Kanda finishes.

 _So I basically have superpowers. Or a curse,_ I ponder. _I’m not sure which prospect is more terrifying._

“Do you know what Innocence is?” the gray-haired boy inquires. I nod; the Finders that first discovered us explained why they were here and what they were searching for. “Then do you know what its purpose is?”

I pause, contemplating. _Isn’t it just used to combat akuma? Am I missing something?_

“Innocence, or the ‘Crystal of God,’ will ultimately be used to battle the Millennium Earl, the person who creates akuma,” Kanda explains.

“Demons are created when the Earl comes to people whose hearts have been tainted by tragedy, such as a death in the family. He offers them a chance to reclaim their loved ones and puts their recalled soul into a mechanical body before killing the human that brought them back. The akuma then wears the person’s body in order to infiltrate society and evolve by killing as many people as possible,” Allen informs me grimly. I can only stare at him open-mouthed, horrified.

_How many times have I passed a demon walking through my hometown?_ I wonder, but I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

“The akuma you just saw was a level two, the highest-ranking of the two types of demons,” Kanda interjects.

_This really isn’t making me feel better about the situation,_ I think nervously.

“However, there are people out there, called Exorcists, who fight using their Innocence to destroy akuma and save their souls,” the gray-haired boy says. “Innocence can take many forms. Mine is in my left hand.” He points at the cross embedded in his left arm, on which his skin is bright red.

I point up to the boy’s eye where the long, jagged scar runs over it and down his face. The boy gives me a sad smile.

“My eye was cursed, so I can see the souls inside akuma,” he informs me. There’s clearly a story behind the mark, but I don’t delve into it further.

I extend a hand towards Kanda and he places Lala’s Innocence in my palm so I can inspect it for myself. Its odd glow strengthens until it becomes blinding to look at. After a moment it flies into the air and vanishes in a shower of blue sparks.

The gears are suddenly replaced by a glove that plummets out of the air. I reach up to catch it.

The glove appears to be made of leather and is coal black. It’s cut off at the fingers, and I fiddle with the holes absentmindedly. I hold the glove for several minutes, feeling the soft but sturdy fabric, when I freeze. I gingerly slip the glove over my left hand, confirming my suspicions. It fits perfectly.

When the glove comfortably settles, a neon blue cross appears in the center of the back of the material. I flex my fingers repeatedly, watching the cross on the glove flash periodically in time with my heartbeat before it relaxes into a steady, dim glow.

“Two pieces of Innocence?” the gray-haired boy gapes.

“That is…extremely rare,” the Finder murmurs in awe.

Kanda finally speaks up, his gaze betraying how dumbfounded he truly is.

“Would you like to become an Exorcist?”

______________________________________________

We bury Lala and Guzol the following morning, giving Evelyn a few minutes to herself to grieve before beginning the journey back to the Order. Considering that we’re taking another train back, the trip will easily consume today and most of tomorrow.

We end up leaving shortly after sunrise with the intent of walking to the nearest train station and hitching a ride (using actual tickets this time).

We commence a comfortable silence for the first leg of the journey. I finally a chance to reflect on the bizarre events of the past few days. _It’s really strange that Evelyn is an Accommodator to multiple pieces of Innocence,_ I muse. The only other Exorcist I know of under the same circumstances is Cross, Allen’s mentor. This unique situation will also undoubtedly paint a larger target on her back, something I’m fairly sure Evelyn already realizes.

Still, I’m not surprised that the mute girl agreed to accompany us without much persuasion, given the fact that both of her companions are now dead. In fact, she consented without any long deliberation after I voiced the question. She remains somewhat wary of us, but to a lesser degree because we’ve willingly explained so much of our work already. But despite having some knowledge of our profession, it’s doubtful Evelyn knows our names, so Allen takes care of introductions once we’re on the move.

“So I’m Allen. This is Kanda,” he says, pointing to me in turn. “And this is Toma,” he finishes. The Finder waves.

Evelyn scratches her head uncomfortably before tapping a finger to her throat and shaking her head. The action is a frustrated one at the impossibility of normal communication. _Why can’t she talk? Is it a physical deformity, or is it the result of a later injury? Maybe it’s psychological,_ I contemplate. It’s not as if she can say, so I tuck those questions into the back of my brain.

“Evelyn, right?” I offer, having heard Lala use the name.

Evelyn nods, looking relieved.

Timcanpy flutters over to the girl, hovering before her face expectantly. Evelyn scratches his chin, her face softening as Tim’s tail wags happily. She points to the small golden creature and turns to me, tilting her head to one side.

“That’s a golem,” I reply.

_Golem?_ Evelyn mouths, her expression confused.

“They’re communication devices developed by the Black Order,” Toma adds. “They can be used as radios over relatively short distances, and you can contact the Order from any part of the world by wiring them to an ordinary telephone.”

Evelyn’s eyebrows shoot upwards, unconvinced that the metal creature skipping around her is capable of such a feat. Still, the golem seems to have taken a liking to her, keeping pace beside her for several minutes before perching on Allen’s head.

_Timcanpy certainly trusts her,_ I muse, _so she’s probably not a bad person._ Evelyn helped Toma and me despite us being on opposing sides. This puzzles me a great deal, but it causes me to distrust her, too. _What was her motive? To gain our trust?_ I ponder, but am unable to come up with any plausible explanation. _Maybe she just has the same guileless mindset as the beansprout._ Evelyn wouldn’t be able to answer, so I don’t bother to ask.

It’s already late afternoon by the time we reach Potenza Inferiore, the nearest train station in the Basilicata region. The building has only been in use for a few years, so the brick comprising the building is unmarred by the ages and the interior lights give a welcome glow.

The station is crowded with people and the abhorrently loud noise of idle chatter and churning of machinery, so Evelyn lasts all of five seconds inside before retreating to the outdoors. I end up accompanying her; pushing through mobs of people isn’t high on my agenda either. As a result, Toma and Allen are tasked with getting tickets while we wait by the main doors.

I stand with my arms crossed, discreetly searching the faces of the people that pass.

It’s times like these that I feel envy towards the beansprout for the ability in his left eye to detect akuma. He virtually never has to worry about demons sneaking up on him or luring him in as a helpful passerby. For the rest of us, that is a constant problem. There’s no way to tell if someone’s human just by physical appearance, so everyone becomes a potential enemy. Good observation skills are an absolute necessity because one slip-up could mean death if you happen to not be in safe company.

This is further magnified by the conspicuous uniforms we wear. Yes, they are designed to provide extra support in combat, but the unique design also clearly identifies us as Exorcists, thus akuma are drawn to us more frequently. This is actually on purpose, a tactic to track down enemies more quickly. But it also ensure that we always have to be on our guard due to the high probability of anyone approaching us having evil intent.

Evelyn seems to grasp this already, but in a more anxiety-inducing fashion than most. She’s backed against the wall with her arms tucked close to her middle, her fearful gaze scrutinizing every passing person as if they’ll all balloon into akuma at any given moment. She distractedly taps her index finger against her opposite arm in a nervous gesture, which begins to pluck at my nerves after a while.

“Akuma won’t usually attack in a large crowd in broad daylight. Calm down,” I grumble.

Evelyn glances at me with an unreadable expression and the finger tapping stops, but she looks no less uncomfortable at being in such a busy location.

A loud, sharp tapping just to our right causes Evelyn to jump and my hand to fly to Mugen, but a glance up yields Allen and Toma waving at us from a window. With a contemporaneous sigh, the new Exorcist and I make our way inside to catch a ride back to England.

The first few hours of the train ride back to Headquarters are painfully awkward with the four of us cramped in a compartment. It’s hard to ignore my companions in the tiny space, so much of the time is spent observing the surroundings while trying to avoid excessive eye contact.

Allen, who is immediately to my left, retrieves the information booklet from the mission and rereads it several times throughout the trip, either from desperate boredom or a desire to uncover more answers. Evelyn seems a bit awestruck by the ordeal at first and stares about the car as if to take in every detail. But after a while, she resorts to removing the navy streaks from her simple updo, braiding and unbraiding them until the curls frizz. Eventually Toma takes pity on her and offers to teach her how to play cards.

Timcanpy perches on Evelyn’s head when she settles on the floor to spread out the cards, his long plumed tail lazily swishing to and fro. While it startles her, she doesn’t seem to mind, frequently reaching up to tickle the golem’s chin as she struggles to keep up with the game.

They’re playing poker, as best I can tell. It’s not much of a game for the first few rounds. Gradually Evelyn starts to get a hang of the rules and the game grows more competitive. She still loses the majority of the time, but she doesn’t seem to mind, only making a comically pinched facial expression before moving on to the next play. Tim even helps her at points, indicating certain cards with his tail to correct a bad move.

“Would you two care to join us?” Toma calls to Allen and me once they circle through the entire deck.

“No thank you. I’d better not,” Allen replies jovially, as if enjoying a private joke.

“Hmph,” I grunt. I haven’t been paying close enough attention to Toma’s instructions to know how to play, and fumbling through the experience in front of my comrades doesn’t sound appealing. Instead I turn my gaze to the passing world outside the train once more.

We arrive around 19:30 the following day. It’s already dark by the time we exit the station and brave the chilly autumn air. It’s several degrees colder up north compared to the temperate climate of Italy, so the cool air bites at me more than usual.

Headquarters is only a short walk away, so the rest of our journey should be brief, albeit dark. Part of the trip is through a set of dense woods, so Allen activates his Innocence. The metal cross on the back of his hand glows fluorescent green, providing some lighting to navigate the thick shrubbery.

The forest starts to thin before long. The dying canopy no longer traps us within shadow and the carpet of dry leaves, faded to rusty browns and oranges in the sparse moonlight, yields to an open field of brittle yellow grasses. An abundance of stars glowers down at us, but it’s not the vast field of sparkling gems that captures my attention. Rather, my eyes slowly travel up the face of a cliff that reaches several hundred feet high, up to the gothic fortress mostly concealed from view by an ominous fog that always seems to envelop its front gates.

Allen smiles at the sight, but I can conjure no sense of relief at returning to this too-familiar place. Long ago this castle became an impossibly dark prison instead of a sanctuary. A chill creeps along my spine but I bury my hatred and fear back into their wretched little corner of my heart, resolving to ignore the sense of foreboding that always accompanies my return to Headquarters.

Evelyn, on the other hand, expresses neither my dread nor Allen’s excitement. Her stormy eyes are wide as she points up to the top of the cliff in a daunted question, glancing between the three of us as if we’ve all grown a second head. Allen comprehends the silent question first and chuckles knowingly.

“Don’t worry; we don’t have to climb that,” he reassures Evelyn, whose shoulders slump in relief. “I made the same mistake my first time.”

“You made it all the way there by yourself, did you not?” Toma inquires.

“Yes. I thought I would be climbing forever,” Allen laughs. “Turns out there was an elevator I didn’t know about.”

He did indeed make the entire climb without assistance or equipment, though how he did so I still haven’t been able to work out. This fact, in addition to the pentagram scar on his forehead, was the reason why the guard mistook him for an akuma and the chaotic misunderstanding ensued which began our tumultuous acquaintanceship.

I stride across the clearing without looking to see if the others are close behind, following the side of the cliff until the looming rock wall takes a sharp turn inwards. Rounding the corner reveals a narrow tunnel that cuts into the center of the cliff. This little passage has been long utilized as the secret entrance into Headquarters.

Most recruits tend to assume that the fabled “secret entryway” is some grand, complex system of machinery that is ingeniously designed to keep out intruders, but they are sorely mistaken. This area’s only real defense is its natural camouflage. With the way the sunlight falls on the rocks, it disguises the breach in the wall, so the untrained eye mistakes it for a simple shadow. The entrance itself isn’t as grand as people expect, either. Smooth walls rise to a high ceiling with a few simple lights strung from it. Merely a few meters in front of us is the elevator door. Its doors stand ajar as if waiting patiently for our return.

Toma presses the respective button and we four file inside, each of us taking a separate corner with just enough room to breathe comfortably. While we’re not squashed together like sardines, we’re still close enough that I can easily read the others’ posture to gain a clue about their thoughts.

Evelyn stumbles when the elevator lurches and rockets upwards, her hands grasping the railing against the back wall so hard her knuckles turn white. It occurs to me she may have never been in an elevator before, judging by the startled but elated gleam in her eyes.

Allen wrings his hands absently. His eyes dart busily about the small space, their cloudy gray depths suggesting he’s deep in anxious thought about the results of his first assignment.

Toma’s stoic face reveals nothing and he simply stares straight ahead, occasionally letting out a tired sigh.

The rising contraption shudders to a halt before long, and Komui’s smiling face awaits us on the other side.

“Hello hello! Good to see you!” he exclaims, looking at each of us in turn. His gaze returns to Evelyn and he extends his hand to her. “My name is Komui Lee, Chief of the European Branch. You’re Evelyn, correct?”

The new girl shakes his hand and nods, scrutinizing his expression with guarded eyes. After several seconds, she appears satisfied with whatever she discerns and her posture relaxes.

“Good. And I assume you all made it here without incident?” Komui prompts, to which all of us nod. “Then Allen and Toma, you may leave and do as you please. Kanda and Evelyn, please stay. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

______________________________________________

Toma and Allen diverge on a path opposite ours and pace out of sight. Unease sets in with their absence, and I realize how much I’ve been depending on them. I suddenly feel vulnerable and catch my gaze constantly moving, observing the surroundings as if the machinery on either side of me will leap to life and attack.

_I’m safe with them,_ I remind myself, glancing between my two remaining companions. Kanda has yet to prove himself anything other than dependable. Grumpy and brooding, but dependable. I was only able to view Chief Komui’s inner thoughts briefly, but I picked up on irrevocable kindness. I also detected a huge amount of anxiety, but there’s not much I can do to help him as of now. Regardless, I feel comfortable in his presence.

My companions start forward, weaving between aisles of equipment. I trail along behind them. I make a concentrated effort to follow their conversation as well as memorize the path should I need to recall it later.

“So, how did Allen do? Did the job go better than you expected?” Chief Komui keeps his tone nonchalant, but his eyes betray hopeful curiosity.

“Tch,” Kanda snaps, looking away. “He did fine.”

Chief Komui lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as the tension leaves him.

We turn a corner and file into a narrow hallway. Every surface of the corridor is hard and smooth, creating deafening echoes as our syncopated footsteps plod along. It reminds me of the underground passages in Mater. Only these are squared instead of rounded stone and more light filters into them. They are just as confusing and intricate, however. All of the halls have more or less the same decor, save for a few paintings scattered at random. I’m sure I’ll retain the path formations eventually, but getting lost at some point is an almost certainty.

“I’m glad to hear it. But I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you two are getting along. Your sour expression says as much,” he jokes. Kanda turns back to glare at him. “Don’t mind him. He’s always this grumpy,” Chief Komui mutters in my ear, poorly concealing his words from our companion.

“Did you keep me here to poke fun at me or did you actually need something?” Kanda growls, folding his arms.

“Oh, have a sense of humor! Hang on; we’re here,” Chief Komui calls abruptly, halting before a pristine white door on the left side of the passage. “And actually, Kanda, you can go for now. Can you be back here in an hour?”

Kanda mutters in agreement and paces away down the hall.

I trail after Chief Komui into what can only be a medical examination room, based on the scattered mess of equipment littering the countertops. Contrary to what the spotless white door suggested, the room is full of color; blues and greens blending together in my brain so none of the machinery is recognizable to me.

The brightest splash of color in the room is the turquoise examination table. I perch atop it, scraping dirt from my nails absentmindedly. It suddenly occurs to me that I might be experimented on, dissected because of my Innocence. Panic settles in like a lead weight. I force my breathing to slow and my rational brain takes over.

_These people are kind. They won’t hurt me,_ I doggedly repeat this mantra in my head, keeping still as death while awaiting further instruction.

Chief Komui stands with his back to me, fiddling with one of the machines. His hands are hidden from my view, but the lightning-quick adjustments and shifting of the contraption indicate a high level of concentration.

“It has been brought to my attention that you are in possession of two pieces of Innocence instead of one. Is that true?” Chief Komui pauses briefly to look over his shoulder at me, and I nod stiffly. “It goes without saying that one piece is in that glove. Do you know the nature or location of the other?” Again he stops working to glance in my direction, and I shake my head.

_One of the others must have warned him that I can’t speak,_ I realize, gratefully noting his tact in only asking me yes or no questions.

“Your glove is an Equip-Type, meaning that it is an object separate from your person. It’s likely that the other is Parasitic, meaning that it is an integrated part of your body.”

Chief Komui wheels over a tall vertical rod with what appears to be a sort of camera attached to it, moving the latter above my head. He then retreats back several paces, following a thin wire back to a squat little box with more buttons than I can count. He fiddles with the controls for a moment, then finally stops and turns to me.

“Are you familiar with x-ray machines?” Chief Komui asks. I shake my head, warily eyeing the camera. “It’s new, cutting-edge technology that allows us to photograph the inside of the body without surgery. It’s becoming more common among medical circles to diagnose diseases and save lives!” He stops and laughs sheepishly at his excitement. “Anyway, it won’t hurt. Just lie still.”

I swivel and stretch out on the examination table, trying to keep my fingers from twitching.

“This will take a while, and I apologize for that. The Order’s technology has sped up the process, but not by much.”

To pass time, Chief Komui launches into a more in-depth explanation of the Order.

The battle against akuma and the Earl has been in occurrence for thousands of years, dating back to biblical times. In a great final battle, the humans wielding Innocence were victorious, but at a great cost. The world was destroyed by the catastrophic battle, which was later identified by Noah’s flood. All that remained was a small palm-sized cube detailing the existence of Innocence. Since then, all had been peaceful and calm.

However, the Earl resurfaced about a hundred years ago. The Catholic Church founded the Black Order to unify Accommodators of Innocence and turn them into Exorcists capable of defeating akuma and, eventually, saving the world.

“It’s a lot of weight for one person,” he finishes sympathetically, “which is why the rest of us are here. Scientists, cooks, and Finders all dedicate their lives to this cause, too. Everyone has their own reasons for joining, but we all end up helping each other. Some even call Headquarters home.”

I ponder this for a minute. What place would I consider home? Once it was Denmark, but I can’t bear to give it that title now. Mater would qualify, I suppose, but somehow that doesn’t fit either. Mater was always Guzol and Lala’s place; it was never truly mine. Perhaps the Order could become my home. Only time will tell.

Once an hour is up, a knock sounds at the door. Chief Komui gives the go-ahead and Kanda strides in, his eyes narrowing at the x-ray machine.

“Aren’t you done yet?” he asks.

“Almost. These things take time,” Chief Komui responds patiently. “Just another minute or two and we’ll have a clear picture.”

I let out a small sigh of relief, although still not daring to breathe too deeply for fear of disrupting the picture. Restlessness set in a long time ago, so the idea of breaking my frozen vigil is highly appealing.

“And...done. Okay, you can move now,” Chief Komui declares, hurrying to a screen on the opposite wall.

I sit up carefully, slow to release the tension in my joints. My limbs have grown stiff, so it feels like they will crumble or shatter if I move them. But I stretch my arms and flex the muscles in my legs without incident, the cracking of my joints mingling with the hum of electronics.

Chief Komui beckons me over to the screen with a wave of his hand. I hop to my feet and join him, looking over his shoulder at the picture on the screen. I’m greeted by the fuzzy gray outline of my body, my skin merely a wisp of silver film. I identify my bones beneath it; clearer, but still faintly blurry.

It’s amazing, surreal to witness, but the complex inner workings of my body isn’t what ultimately holds my attention.

My vocal cords glow blue; a deep, healing color. In fact, it’s the exact shade of the navy streak in my hair. I frown and lightly run my fingers along the discolored strands, contemplating. _Its alternate coloring is a product of the Innocence, no doubt,_ I realize. _I’ve had this since birth, then. How did I never notice it before? Has it been dormant?_

“I suspected as much,” Chief Komui mutters, folding a hand over his mouth in deep thought. He abruptly swivels around to face me, his face unreadable. “Your Parasitic Innocence is your voice.”

Kanda, who has hung back near the examination table up to now, paces over to join us.

“That’s impossible. How is she supposed to kill akuma with it if she can’t even speak?” he queries skeptically. He mentions my mutism so casually, as if it’s an ordinary fact of life rather than a defect. I’m not sure whether I’m grateful or invalidated.

Chief Komui brings his hands to his face again, his dark eyes unfocusing for several seconds.

“Perhaps it’s not an offensive Innocence. It could have some other special power,” he muses.

I cock my head to one side in question.

“Maybe your voice is poisonous to demons. Or maybe it can let you fly or something!” Chief Komui chuckles.

“Flying Exorcists,” Kanda echoes, carefully enunciating every syllable.

“We can’t know either way as of now. It will likely take training to unlock that ability. Regarding that, I’m putting Evelyn in the Tiedoll unit,” Chief Komui announces, the statement more directed at Kanda than me.

Kanda’s expression shutters, his emotions becoming indistinguishable. I’m not sure what that means, but I’ll undoubtedly find out soon. 

“For now, you two should eat and get some sleep. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.” Chief Komui places something in my hand, a tiny golden key attached to a slip of paper reading 205. “This is your room key. You should probably have Kanda show you around; the Order’s layout is very confusing.”

Kanda glances at me and wordlessly exits the room, leaving me to trail behind him. I halt in the doorway long enough to give a nod of thanks to Chief Komui, which he returns with a smile. With that settled, I scramble to catch up to my companion as we head into the maze of dim hallways.

The trip is dark and quiet until light floods the corridor from a huge open space up ahead. Suddenly the air is hectic with dozens of voices, male and female, ranging from angry and exclamatory to calm and jovial. The multitude of conversations and the accompanying stamping of feet makes my ears vibrate and my vision blur, the sheer amount of noise too much for my brain to handle.

Suddenly I’m transported back to Denmark, listening to the unintelligible clamor of the cramped halls. All of the conversations jumble together and my ears instinctively scan the commotion for certain voices, a nasal tone or gravelly sneering. Half of me is desperate to cover my ears, block out the horrible memories, but the other half battles it ferociously, saying that I have to keep alert. I have to keep searching for the danger, keep trying to locate it. Always watchful, always in danger.

 _Don’t be ridiculous. You’re hundreds of miles away from there,_ I tell myself, thankful that the logical side of my mind is taking control. I force my eyes to move, to take in the high ceiling, the rows upon rows of tables painted a horrible shade of yellow, to recognize this place as the Black Order.

I can finally move again and take a step forward, but quickly realize that I’ve lost sight of Kanda in the crowd. I rise on my toes and peer over the mass of people, which isn’t too difficult because of my height. A flash of blue hair crosses my vision for a split second and I start towards it.

Some people hold such a commanding presence that they simply part crowds when they traverse them. I am not one of those people. Instead, I shrink to half my size and squeeze into narrow gaps between people, frequently apologizing when I bump into someone accidentally.

“Hey Kanda, guess what? I heard there’s a new Exorcist!” someone calls from not far ahead. The voice is sharp and playful but not unpleasant, not one that I recognize.

 _News certainly travels quickly here,_ I muse in surprise.

I weave my way through the last few people to reach the voice, exiting the thick of the mob far quicker than expected. I emerge before a table of people, almost crashing straight into Kanda as I trip over someone’s foot.

Everyone at the table looks around in surprise as I struggle to regain my footing and compose myself. _Admittedly not the best start,_ I think bashfully.

Kanda’s eyes remain expressionless as he introduces me.

“This is her. She’s joining our unit.”

“Welp, guess that’s settled. I’m Daisya,” says the voice from before. Its distinctive tone belongs to a boy about my age with a hooded uniform that swathes his face in shadow. However, I can still glimpse a narrow face and dark brown eyes framed by twin purple triangles below them, which I suspect are tattoos. He seems amiable enough; he flashes me a toothy grin and his eyes are warm with welcome.

The second man is tall and broad with medium brown skin. He has an overall warm and soothing aura and adorns an easygoing smile. He sits rigidly, formally, but not so much so that he appears stiff and uncomfortable. His eyes are constantly shut, implying blindness, but despite large headphones covering his ears, he has no trouble discerning my location and waves. He introduces himself as Marie in a soft, deep-toned voice.

The third man is also relatively young, in his mid-thirties I’d guess, but has a hint of gray in his bushy, curly brown hair tied back in a tail. Narrow glasses frame watery, expressive eyes. His posture is relaxed, but somehow he gives off an air of quiet observation and authority.

“I’m General Tiedoll,” he says in a rich, paternal voice. “Welcome to our unit.”

I smile respectfully and take the seat between Daisya and Kanda, oblivious to my mistake until my new comrades exchange confused glances.

“What’s your name?” General Tiedoll prompts.

I flounder for a moment, searching the table for a pen and paper. My cheeks grow hot at the stares of everyone at the table, my brain whirling for a way to act out my name if I can’t find something to write with. Thankfully, Kanda glances sideways at me before answering.

“Evelyn. She doesn’t speak.” The words are grudging and laced with irritation, but they emerge all the same. I try to make eye contact to thank him, but he stares straight ahead and ignores me.

“I see. Evelyn, then,” General Tiedoll echoes. His whole face forms a vibrant smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a genuine expression. “You two should get some food. We started eating since you were a little late; I hope you don’t mind,” he continues, glancing between Kanda and me.

Kanda and I rise in unison, our chair shrieking as they slide against the tile floor. I flinch at the noise, but Kanda has no reaction and strides away. He has the sort of commanding presence I lack, so he has no trouble pushing through the crowds. I follow in his wake, barely registering we’ve reached a solid counter until a loud, accented voice cuts into my stupor.

“Ooh, an unfamiliar face! You must be new. What can I get you, hun?” the chef behind the counter asks. His appearance is a little odd with lavender hair pulled back in twin braids, narrow, sharp-edged glasses, and fluid, dancing mannerisms. His black eyes are gentle but scrutinizing, leaving me flustered as I search for an answer to his question.

 _What are my options? What kinds of food do they serve here? Will I even know what any of it is?_ I look at Kanda for help to see he already has a plate of food before him, a bowl of pasta with greens submerged in a rusty yellow sauce. I don’t know what it is, but it looks tasty enough. I point to it and the chef vanishes behind a set of shelves in the back before reappearing with an identical plate.

“Here you go,” he chirps.

I accept the food and nod my head in thanks, wishing not for the first time that I could say the words out loud.

“Quiet, aren’t we? Don’t worry. You’ll get used to things around here soon enough,” the man muses lightheartedly. “I’m Jerry, by the way. Feel free to come see me if you have any questions.”

I smile at him, and it feels as if a weight’s been lifted off my chest. _Everyone here is so nice,_ I think contentedly. _They accept me as one of their own without question._

Kanda and I return to our unit’s table to find them engrossed in a discussion about their last job. Their faces are animated and the discussion clearly involving akuma, but my brain refuses to lock onto their voices. Instead I zone out, my brain still buzzing from the absurd amount of noise in the cafeteria.

The entire bowl of pasta is gone before I even realize I’d started eating. I stare remorsefully at the empty bowl, reflecting on the aftertaste of how good it was. I wish that I’d been paying enough attention to enjoy the delicious meal.

“Is she deaf too?” comes Daisya’s voice from my left.

My gaze snaps to him and hurt reverberates through me before I read his expression. A playful grin spreads across his face, devoid of ill intent. _He’s only joking,_ I realize, allowing my posture to relax.

“I asked if you have an iron stomach or something, because you just inhaled an entire bowl of spicy noodles without even flinching,” Daisya teases, lightly poking my shoulder with his index finger.

I snort in amusement, abruptly covering my mouth after the action. I do indeed have a high tolerance for volcanic food; my mother put hot peppers in our dinners whenever she could get her hands on them. The memory makes me once again absent from the present before the conversation picks up again.

“They’re not that spicy,” Kanda says mildly, and Daisya shoots him a look.

“Are you sure about that?” Marie pipes up, prompting a laugh from General Tiedoll.

“Fine then, let’s make a deal. If I eat an entire plate of soba without flinching, you have to eat a piece of cake or something. With extra icing,” Daisya counters, smirking.

“Not a chance,” Kanda refuses flatly.

“I hate to break this up, but we need to talk about tomorrow’s schedule,” General Tiedoll interrupts. The table falls quiet. “I suspect that you’ll be sent out on a job before too long, so we’ll begin your training right away,” he says to me. “So, all of us are meeting at eight tomorrow morning in room 113; it’s the vacant room a few doors down from here.”

“Why do you want us there exactly?” Kanda asks.

“To demonstrate and explain what I’m unable to,” General Tiedoll replies evenly. “You can use the time to do your own training, as well.”

Kanda grunts, and Marie shoots him an exasperated look.

“We’ll be there,” he promises.

I head back to my room alone some time later, which I realize may have been a mistake after wandering the halls for almost half an hour with zero clue where I am. With the crepuscular autumn night, the poorly-lit halls have turned into a labyrinth. The network of passages isn’t unlike the tunnels beneath Mater, so I anticipated that I would feel comfortable in them, the darkness a familiar blanket instead of a source of fear. But I haven’t memorized these paths and panic steadily creeps into my body the longer I wander around.

Finally I stumble into a more brightly-lit space, an open circular room with almost a dozen doors lining the walls. A wide tile path stretches across the space with a railing in the center overlooking a pit. Curiosity draws me closer and I lean out over the metal bars, peering down into the abysmal hole. It’s far too dark to see the bottom, so it seems as if the void reaches deep into the core of the earth.

My stomach drops when I imagine falling into it. I back away from the railing, taking a deep breath as I look around and make yet another attempt to orient myself.

In a pleasant surprise, the first door number I lay eyes on is 201. Immediately straightening up, I skim the doors to the right and finally catch sight of a little gray plate reading 205 above a dark wooden door. My fumbling fingers find the key stashed in my pocket and fit it into the lock.

I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when I step into my new living space, a small rectangular room containing only a bed with dark blue sheets, a short dresser, and a lamp. I stick out a foot to hold the door ajar while I look around, but miss and am left in complete darkness after the door clicks shut. So I work off of the brief memory of the floorplan and feel my way to the dresser, catching the knob with clumsy fingers to slide it open.

When I left Aabenra, all I carried with me was the backpack full of food. No books, no trinkets, nothing other than the pack and the single loaf of bread. Mater wasn’t a fruitful area, so all I picked up from there were some herbs Lala and Guzol showed me how to use. The backpack, although worn, has remained intact and usable. It’s currently slung across my shoulders, having decided to bring it with me on a whim. I doubt I’ll need the meager herbs stowed within it. Still, it seemed wrong to leave the pack after all this time.

I finally remove the backpack and stuff it in the dresser, rolling my shoulders back to loosen the tension. With the weight gone and my eyes growing heavy, I climb beneath the covers, tucking my knees into my chest as the warmth of the blankets envelops me.

A small part of my brain is uncomfortable, unfamiliar with staying in a proper room after a year of sleeping with rock for a pillow. But most of me recognizes this as safe, familiar. In my drowsy stupor, I even catch myself listening for Mina’s purr winding around me as it would in Aabenra. Then I remember how much time has passed, all that has changed, and the room suddenly grows much colder.

 _Did people ask questions after I disappeared? What are my parents doing now?_ I wonder. _Do they miss me?_ That thought freezes all of the others into silence. I recall tipping backwards off the horse, staring after the twin forms riding off into the night. Neither of them ever looked back. _I doubt it,_ I conclude. Sadness threatens to consume me, so I turn over and press my forehead to the wall, willing the merciful arms of sleep to take me quickly.

______________________________________________

The General strides into the practice room at eight o’clock exactly. His watery eyes are bright despite the early hour. Marie, Daisya, Evelyn, and I arrived early, so we start without any further delay.

“First things first, I suppose. Do you know the definition of Innocence?” the General asks. “What about akuma?”

Evelyn nods yes to both.

“Good. Have you ever activated your Innocence before?” the General inquires, and Evelyn shakes her head. “Then we’ll start there. Exorcists activate their weapons by pushing energy into them with their minds. Focus on your glove.”

Evelyn raises her left hand and stares at it like she’s trying to set it on fire with her eyes.

“Now concentrate on sending energy into it. Most new Exorcists have to verbally say ‘Innocence activate,’ but you can probably achieve the same by saying it in your head,” General Tiedoll instructs.

A moment of silence passes before a blue spark roars to life in the glove, sending off a beam of light mimicking an explosion. It fills the room with a blinding flash before dying out completely, leaving the space comparatively abysmal.

Evelyn leaps backwards in fright, her eyes wide. She slowly raises her head, apprehensive of our reactions, but Daisya only laughs.

“That was awesome. Do it again,” he chuckles, and Evelyn smiles.

“But this time, increase the energy more gradually,” Marie adds gently.

“Sometimes a physical motion to visualize helps,” I interject, drawing Mugen. I run two fingers along the blade, watching the supernatural light erupt and chase them along the length of the sword.

Evelyn watches with a borderline awestruck expression, but looks back down at her Innocence in puzzlement.

“How is she supposed to do that with a glove?” Daisya snorts.

“It was just an idea,” I retort defensively. _I don’t know why I spoke up at all._

“See? This is what I mean,” the General says gleefully. “You all are a great help in explaining these things.”

I huff dismissively and retreat to a far corner of the room, resolving to improve my own technique. I mentally review the fight with the jester akuma. My injuries weren’t a result of poor swordsmanship or slow reflexes, but rather a lapse in concentration that made me miss crucial details to clue me into the akuma’s true identity. But maybe if I’d trained more in hand-to-hand combat, I wouldn’t have been as defenseless after I lost hold of my sword.

With that thought in mind, I shift my stance and curl my fingers into fists, trying to block out my comrade’s voices to begin training.

Over the next several hours, I practice a variety of offensive and defensive maneuvers until my arms and legs burn. Marie and Daisya eventually diverge into their own training and General Tiedoll remains with Evelyn, going over the basics of combat and Innocence activation.

I pay enough attention to quickly discover that Evelyn has little to no experience with fighting. It’s a good thing she learns quickly because I’m growing very tired of being stuck babysitting newbies. Hopefully she can hold her own by the time our next job comes around. I won’t make her safety my concern.

After lunch, we move on to sparring. Marie and Evelyn are paired up first, so Daisya and I face of on the opposite side of the room.

I scrutinize my comrade’s every movement, following his steps and habits to look for a weakness. A more obvious one is that Daisya treats the match like a game. He dances this way and that, dodging each of my punches with exaggerated movements, as if he’s making fun of me. But it’s nothing more than bravado; Daisya’s Innocence is equip-type and rarely involves him getting close to the enemy, so he’s unskilled in hand-to-hand combat. It also helps that I’ve known him long enough to learn most of his tricks.

Unfortunately, Daisya also knows most of mine.

After a couple of minutes, Daisya’s attacks start to gravitate towards my torso. He’s aiming for the wound I acquired in Mater. I’m amazed he caught that weakness. It’s still a sore spot, true, but I’ve taken care not to favor it. Evidentially I haven’t been careful enough.

Daisya lands a kick in the center of my stomach, the heel of his foot tapping the wound before withdrawing. It’s a soft blow, since we’re only practicing, but I still wince as pain shoots through me.

“Sore spot, eh? Did you get clipped on your last job?” Daisya asks, keeping his voice low.

I glower at him and use his distraction to kick his legs out from under him. My opponent lands heavily on his back, chuckling as he scrambles back to his feet.

“That doesn’t make me any weaker,” I growl.

“Fair enough. But you can talk to us, you know. We’re not out to get you,” Daisya says, wiggling his fingers at me.

“Just worry about yourself,” I respond, taking another swipe at him. He dodges this time, leaping out of range.

Daisya glances up at the clock. I don’t follow his gaze, instead training my eyes on him in case of this being an attempt at distraction. But he only skips away, waving at me over his shoulder.

“Two o’clock. Time to switch partners.”

After a quick water break, Marie and I face off.

Marie is tall and stocky, so even if I land a good hit, unbalancing him is going to be difficult. Blindness hasn’t hindered him at all, either. The large headphones covering his ears actually amplify his hearing to the degree that he can hear everything from the shuffling of feet to human heartbeats. There’s no use trying to be sneaky or quiet. I’ll just have to move fast.

Before either of us has a chance to speak, I dash around my opponent and throw a punch at his back. Marie swivels and blocks the blow with his forearm, rendering it ineffective. Changing tactics, I throw a bunch of admittedly messy punches and kicks in succession, trying to overwhelm him. But Marie continues on the defensive, halting all of the attacks except one that clips him in the shoulder. He responds by finally striking back, aiming for the center of my chest.

I raise my hands to avoid the worst of the blow, but still stumble backwards from its sheer force. We both pause for a second, evaluating.

“Those last hits were a little messy. Make sure that each one is calculated and don’t attack carelessly,” Marie advises.

I nod, knowing he’s right. _Hastiness will cost you_ , I remind myself, letting out a deep breath. _Evaluate every detail, then strike._

I bolt awake with a gasp, swinging at nothing. Surveying the room with wide eyes reveals nothing out of the ordinary, just the hard bed beneath me and the table in the opposite corner. Gradually my breathing slows and I slump against the headboard, shaking off whatever nightmare plagued me tonight. The memory escapes me, but I can guess its nature.

Instinctively, I slide to my feet and cross the empty space, bending over the low, round table. The only object atop it is a gold-embroidered container. An hourglass, but it doesn’t contain sand. A blooming lotus flower sits in the top, its pink petals vibrant and perfectly aligned. Counting them yields eleven petals of the original thirteen. The missing two fell off some time ago. They sit in the bottom half of the hourglass, blackened and wilted, a constant reminder of my time, slowly running out.

I count the petals again and let out a sigh of relief. The nightmare was nothing but, and everything is in order. But as I turn back towards the bed, I can’t bring myself to return to its relative warmth. The cold, hard floor and the abysmal, looming walls suddenly become a cage, a dark pit in the depths of my personal hell.

My breath catches, panic building in me when I struggle to inhale. My throat seems to squeeze shut, allowing only the tiniest tendrils of air to supply my lungs. _I have to get out of here_ , I think, striding towards the door.

Stepping out into the open space beyond brings immediate relief. I take several deep breaths of the clean night air. It still carries the Order’s weight, but not the stifling dampness of the room.

As I gaze out towards the gaping abyss in the center of the hall, I discover I’m not alone. Evelyn leans out over the railing, peering down into the hole with pensive eyes. I decide to join her, folding my arms on the railing to her right.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I inquire, my voice unsettlingly loud in the otherwise deathly silence.

Evelyn shakes her head, but doesn’t shift her gaze from the pit.

I glance at her, observing her slightly sickly appearance. I suspect her skin tone would hold a darker olive tint with proper sunlight and nutrition, but living underground to avoid Mater’s harsh climate has stolen that color. Accompanied by the slouched posture surely induced by exhaustion, it looks as if a simple breeze could snap her in two. She must have been tough to survive in Mater’s unforgiving landscape, but she certainly doesn’t look the part.

Based on her minimal fighting experience, Evelyn will likely flounder on the battlefield. And of course, akuma don’t accommodate newbies. She’ll be caught in the thick of the fighting right away.

I don’t like the mental image my brain conjures up.

“Being an Exorcist is a hard, dark road to go down. You have to adjust quickly or you won’t last long. I’m not responsible for protecting you,” I state, deciding to warn her now.

A long stretch of silence passes between us and I wonder if I shouldn’t have said anything. _No, she needs to know_ , I tell myself.

Evelyn looks up at me, looks away, fidgets her hands, then turns to face me again.

“I’m not afraid of a little darkness,” she says.

Evelyn’s voice is clear and soft, barely more than a whisper. Its pitch is higher than I’d guessed, but not annoyingly so. It is warm and rings through the corridor like music. It conveys hesitation, apprehension of my reaction.

I freeze. My brain fumbles for a response, but comes up empty. What do you say when a mute speaks for the first time? Asking too many questions, or maybe any at all, may cause her to withdraw again. But I feel I should say something, at least.

Admittedly, my first response is to laugh. She has said nothing for who knows how long and _those_ are her first words? My distrust of her begins to diminish, ebbing away like a puddle of water in the midday sun. Whether Evelyn is kind-hearted or not, curiosity drives me to learn more about my strange new teammate.

Eventually I turn back to Evelyn, even though I’m still not sure what I’m going to say. But she has vanished, leaving me alone in the dark corridor.

______________________________________________

I meet my team for training bright and early the next morning, massaging sore muscles on the way. Physical exertion to get food and supplies in Mater was always a fact of life, yes, but never to the degree I experienced yesterday. I’ll adjust quickly. But today my muscles are none too pleased with the change.

When I open the training room doors, nothing has changed from yesterday. Everyone else is already there and casually glances at me to acknowledge my entrance. None of them question me about not speaking, so Kanda must not have told them about last night’s enocounter.

To be honest, I’m not even sure why I spoke up, what made that single statement important enough to give me the strength to speak after so many months of silence. But those words opened a long-closed door and suddenly the prospect of speaking isn’t as daunting. My throat feels open and clear for the first time in over a year, so I decide to try again.

“Hi,” I say simply, the word sounding much easier than it feels.

The rest of the room goes still.

“She speaks!” Daisya exclaims, and I shrink back. Kanda thwacks him on the back of the head, looking annoyed. “Hey, what was that for?!” Daisya complains, rubbing the injury with agitated fingers. He looks to General Tiedoll, who shrugs, but gives me an encouraging smile.

“Let’s get on with training,” Kanda mutters, wandering to the opposite side of the room. I fought Marie and Daisya yesterday, so I know he’s my next opponent.

As I start to follow my new sparring partner, Marie claps a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” he congratulates, and I smile in return.

I want to thank Kanda for sticking up for me, but as soon as I take my place opposite him, he lunges at me without warning and knocks me flat on my back.

“You’ll have to be quicker than that,” he advises, smirking.

I immediately scramble back to my feet, raising my fists defensively. The next attack comes without a moment’s pause, a punch at my right shoulder. I manage to block it with my left arm, but reflexively flinch at the impact. The action slows me enough that Kanda kicks my legs out from under me again. I roll backwards before getting up this time, putting some distance between us.

“Stop cowering away from me. Fight back,” Kanda barks. I wince at the edge to his voice, then curse myself for it. _Have to be brave._

I rush at my opponent on the offensive this time, a plan firmly in my head. I strike at Kanda’s right side, a pitiful effort he visibly scoffs at. When he moves to block the hit, I aim a much harder blow to his left shoulder to unbalance him.

Kanda stumbles backwards a step and I try to kick his knee to send him down the rest of the way, but he twists away from me and out of range. Kanda instantly returns, fists flying at my face.

I hop sideways to dodge, but Kanda predicts it and lands a hit on my ribs. I flinch again instinctively. However, no pain registers with my adrenaline pumping, so my reflexes remain swift enough to dodge the next hit. Kanda overshoots, leaving his front undefended.

I bypass the opportunity, avoiding the injuries I know I’ll find there. Supernatural healing powers or no, he surely hasn’t recovered completely in four days. Instead I slide behind Kanda, scraping his shoulder before he swivels back around to face me at lightning speed.

“Don’t aim exclusively at my shoulders. Go for vital areas,” Kanda instructs, eyeing me curiously. “You know my weakness. Use it.”

He must think I’m going easy on him by not targeting his wounds, that they would be my logical target. And in battle, they would be my first choice. But I can’t even fathom hitting a friend with the intent of causing serious pain.

“If you were an enemy, I would,” I reply.

“If you’re soft in here, you will be soft in the field,” Kanda snaps.

“This is only practice. I don’t want to hurt you,” I retort, recoiling backwards.

“Please,” Kanda snorts. “I can handle it.”

I throw him a mutinous glare as the faint sound of approaching footsteps reaches my ears. I turn toward the doors and a second later a scientist with astonishingly spiky hair appears in the entrance, a clipboard clutched in his hands. Dark, tired circles accent drooping brown eyes, but his voice is bright and alert when he calls our attention.

“Kanda, Evelyn, Chief wants to see you in his office. Another job came in,” the man reports, fixing his gaze on each of us in turn.

“Already?” General Tiedoll asks, frowning. “Evelyn hasn’t even seen Hevlaska yet.”

 _Who_? I wonder, looking to the others, but no one offers an explanation.

“It wasn’t Chief Komui decision. The instructions came from higher up,” the man explains, opening his palms in a gesture of surrender.

The General’s scowl deepens, but he doesn’t protest further.

“Be safe!” he calls after Kanda and me as we follow the scientist out into the hall. I wave in farewell to the rest of my team, but fear the action is lost as we round a corner and enter the perplexing maze of hallways.

“I’m Reever, by the way. Pleased to meet you!” the scientist chimes affably.

I want to tell him my name as well, but suddenly the words seem to triple in mass, lodging themselves in my throat. So instead I simply nod, hoping that I don’t seem rude by not responding.

Thankfully, Reever isn’t offended.

“So it’s true then. You can’t speak,” he murmurs, intrigued rather than accusatory. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Soon we reach a set of tall double doors, but they’re not foreboding, as one would expect. Instead the entrance is inviting and calming, as if beckoning us into a friend’s embrace.

“Chief, I’m coming in!” Reever calls, opening the clanking doors.

The office we step into is quite possibly the messiest space I have ever seen in my life. The room is perfectly circular with a ceiling at least twenty feet high. Bookshelves are built into every wall, leaving every inch of the space stacked with books and files. But even with all the shelves, piles of papers litter the floor and nearly reach my knees in height. Only a single path through the middle is clear, which leads to a huge desk in the back of the room.

Chief Komui sits at the cluttered desk, smiling in greeting as we approach. Clutched in his hand is a large coffee mug the color of a midsummer sky. Painted on the front is a florescent pink rabbit that looks like something from a carnival gone wrong.

I struggle to keep a straight face, laughter threatening to rebound each time I meet the eyes of the hilariously terrifying bunny.

“Hey, you two. I’ll go over the mission in just a minute. The third member of your group should be here shortly,” Chief Komui greets us. “Thanks Reever. You can go.”

Just as Reever slips out of the room, another familiar figure enters behind him.

Allen steps tentatively into the room. He stops dead once he lays eyes on Kanda, whose frown morphs into a frustrated scowl. Apprehension fills his large gray eyes and he doesn’t dare move any closer, instead opting to remain by the door.

I glance at Kanda to see him staring at Allen as well, a sour look crossing his face. Whatever strife these two had before, it certainly hasn’t faded since we came to Headquarters.

“Do you have any problems with cold environments? How about hot ones?” Chief Komui inquires, ignoring the tension flying like gunshots between the two Exorcists.

Neither Kanda nor Allen says anything at first, so I interject in hopes of dissipating the barbs of anger.

“Nope,” I reply, the word sounding more like a cough than comprehensible language. But I managed to say it, at least.

Chief Komui’s eyes widen in surprise, but his expression quickly settles into a cheerful smile.

“Good. What about you two?” he says loudly, finally bringing the feuding Exorcists back into the conversation.

“Neither particularly bothers me,” Allen answers cautiously.

Kanda makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a disapproving mutter, glancing pointedly at the white-haired Exorcist.

“There’s a village experiencing abnormal weather,” Chief Komui continues, ignoring him. “One moment there’s a blizzard and a hot summer wind blows the next. We think it’s probably caused by Innocence.” He pauses, donning an uneasy expression. “I want you to find and collect it…working together…” he says carefully.

“Understood,” Allen agrees without hesitation, and I nod in support.

“With you again?” Kanda glances at Allen, his gaze full of contempt.

Allen’s eyes rise to the ceiling and he shakes his head in exasperation.

“I’ll be going then,” he announces, slipping out the office door. “See you when we get back.”

Kanda grudgingly follows him, and I pace along beside him as we head down another series of hallways. Allen keeps a steady lead ahead of us, but Kanda doesn’t make an effort to catch up.

 _What on earth happened between these two to make them dislike each other so much?_ I wonder, wishing I could melt into the wall to avoid the tension shrouding the area like a thundercloud.

I suppose I could check by reaching into their memories if I desperately wanted to. But when I discovered the previously latent power in Mater, I made the choice to avoid intruding on someone’s personal memories unless it was an emergency. It’s a serious invasion of privacy. Besides, I certainly wouldn’t want someone else carelessly digging around through my past if our positions were reversed.

“So this if your first job, huh?” Allen prompts, slowing to fall into step to my right, opposite Kanda.

I nod, feeling nervous.

“What should I expect?”

Then comes the reaction to my voice: puzzlement. Allen glances between Kanda and me as if looking for confirmation.

“I thought you couldn’t talk before,” he says, but his tone isn’t accusatory.

“Work in progress,” I fumble, staring at my shoes.

“Well I’m glad to hear it,” Allen replies, laughing lightheartedly. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about our jobs. Mater was my first one.”

I feel my eyes widen at this. The images of their injuries and desperate faces while being hunted by the akuma make me shudder.

 _Are their jobs always this dangerous? How often are they injured?_ I wonder. It’s not myself I’m worried about; I can handle pain well enough. But I’m not sure I can handle seeing another friend fall in combat. _We’re soldiers. This is war_ , I remind myself. _I’d better get used to that idea._

Soon we descend a long flight of stairs and the sound of lapping water filters into my ears. We’ve reached an underground river of sorts, although this one looks more man-made than natural. The walls are carved stone and a short walkway yields to canoes lining the edges.

Two figures are already waiting in one of the small boats, rising to greet us when we enter the cavern.

The first is a boy only a year or two older than me with flaming red hair that sticks up in spikes thanks to a green bandana. One deep green eye sparkles with mischief, the other concealed by a large pirate-like eyepatch. He walks with a bit of a swagger with a crooked smile to match. He is bright, vibrant and vivacious, but when I try to read his heart, it remains guarded and out of my reach. Interesting.

The second is a short older man with olive skin and intelligent, tired eyes. He is nearly bald with only a few strands in the back forming wild curls. Huge dark circles that resemble tattoos surround his eyes and his ears come to a fine point. They, along with the wisdom radiating off of him like a separate aura, remind me of an elf. Oddly enough, I can’t get a read on him either.

It’s disorienting not to be able to search someone’s heart to determine if they’re friend or foe. Even Lala had an aura I could detect, despite being a machine. But these two, while it’s clear they have an aura, it is beyond my capability to penetrate.

The two of them may have undergone training to block mind searching. It’s awfully convenient that I can’t sense either of their emotions. But if that’s the case, what are they trying so hard to hide?

Uneasy now, I meander over to the canoe beside Allen and Kanda.

“Looks like we’re joining you,” the red-haired boy declares. His voice is strong and distinctive, his tone friendly.

Kanda and Allen appear to recognize both of them. Allen accepts the help without question, clearly excited to have another friend joining the assignment. Kanda, however, doesn’t seem pleased.

“Hmph. How annoying,” he mutters quietly enough I think I’m the only one who hears. But the red-haired boy glances in his direction at the remark, his contented expression unchanging.

“Come on, don’t say that. Let’s work together, Yu,” he chirps.

“Don’t call me by my first name!” Kanda snaps, gaining a murderous expression.

_Kanda’s first name is Yu?_ I realize in surprise. _Better not call him that. I wonder why he’s so angry about it._ But Kanda has been in a foul mood the whole morning, so I’m not brave enough to ask.

“Either way, we’re all Exorcists. So when the time comes, we’ll fight and support one another, right?” the redhead inquires, a nice way of asking him to lighten up.

“Of course. Thank you for your assistance,” Allen replies before Kanda has a chance. He grabs the oar for the canoe and pushes us away from shore, propelling the little boat into the dark tunnel.

The canoe is swallowed by the bleak passage and we leave the light of the torches behind. All that reaches my ears is faint whispering from the older newcomer.

“This is a good chance for us to confirm with our own eyes whether this is Hevlaska’s prophesied Destroyer of Time,” he tells his apprentice, his voice so quiet that none of the others catch the remark.

 _Destroyer of Time? What does that have to do with Allen?_ I think, puzzled. Suddenly I wish I’d gotten a chance to visit Hevlaska before leaving.

That statement also raises more questions about the newcomers. It’s clear they’re not just Exorcists; they’re focused on much more than simply killing akuma. But what are they after? Information? If so, how far are they willing to go to obtain it?

“So what’s your name? Mine’s Lavi,” the boy asks with a wink, startling me out of my thoughts.

“I, uh, Evelyn,” I stammer.

“I have no formal name. Just call me Bookman,” the boy’s counterpart speaks up in a raspy voice before falling silent again, absently staring at the passing stones.

“So I hear you got stuck on a team with this one,” Lavi observes, hiking his thumb at Kanda. The accused party grumbles something unintelligible, warning the energetic boy to hold his tongue. Lavi isn’t daunted. “Don’t worry about him, though. He’s actually kind of a softie,” he mock whispers.

“Shut. Up,” Kanda growls, but Lavi only chuckles.

I stifle a giggle myself, surprised at how easily the action comes. Despite my misgivings, the spunky red-haired Exorcist appears nothing but amiable and genuine, so I decide to shove my suspicions away for now.

By late morning, we’re boarding a train bound for eastern Germany. The compartment we enter is thankfully empty apart from us, so we get a free pick of seats. Bookman goes off by himself in the center of the car. Allen and Lavi sit opposite one another one row over, leaving a vacant spot for me to do the same. But Kanda bypasses them and takes a spot at the end of the compartment, propping his head on one hand to stare out the window.

Slightly concerned, I follow and take the spot facing him. Glancing out the window yields the squat little station beyond and the people dotted about its perimeter. It’s fascinating to think that each one carries their own story, their own personalities. But then again, any one of them could be an akuma.

_Allen’s eye would have reacted if an akuma was nearby,_ I remind myself, steering my focus in a new direction.

“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing sideways at my silently brooding companion.

Kanda lets out a frustrated grunt, indicating with a tilt of his head the Exorcists sitting several rows behind us.

“Don’t take the teasing so seriously. He only does it because he’s fond of you,” I tell him sincerely.

“I know that,” Kanda replies, sounding irritated. He flashes a glance at me, then sighs and returns his gaze to the window. “This would go faster if I went alone.”

Ignoring a twinge of annoyance, I playfully poke Kanda’s leg with my shoe. He returns his gaze to me, looking unamused.

“Well, you’re stuck with us,” I say lightly. “But having a team can be fun. And if things go south, you know we’ve got your back.” I think of when he and Toma were badly injured in Mater, that I was merely a clueless bystander. Only a few days have passed since then, but my world has vastly expanded and if something happens on this job, I will do everything in my power to make sure my team is safe.

A beat of silence passes.

“Just worry about yourself. First jobs are always tough,” Kanda snorts, but his expression softens just a little.

The train’s whistle lets out an earsplitting screech and the massive locomotive lurches forward. Trees pass in a blur as the train picks up speed. My comrade and I settle into silence to watch the progression.

Kanda quickly falls victim to sleep, his scowl relaxing into contented neutrality.

I consider taking a nap too, but my feelings of anticipation for my first assignment refuse to let me. Instead I watch the countryside zoom past, thinking for but a moment that the others are asleep as well until the sound of Lavi’s conversation, or shall I say monologue, with Allen reaches my ears.

“So when I went to China…hey, are you listening?” Lavi says. A tired grunt of affirmation follows. _I guess Allen’s half-asleep too,_ I think in amusement. “So there I was, hitting it off with a cute girl in a Chinese silk dress. It was so cool!” Lavi continues excitedly. “The food was good, too. After that, a cuter girl came in and…” he trails off again. “Ah? He fell asleep? That’s no fun.”

Several minutes pass before the silence is disrupted again. I look up at the sound of footsteps to see Lavi approaching, a mischievous grin spread across his face. His visible green eye flits to me as I stir and he holds one finger to his lips, a request for silence. My strange new companion perches on the seat next to Kanda and, to my utter astonishment, begins to braid his hair.

“He’s going to slice you in two,” I warn, but grin as Kanda’s pencil-straight blue locks take shape in a simple braid.

“Nah. I’ll be fine,” Lavi says, his fingers weaving the strands with surprising skill.

Suddenly Kanda starts awake. Confusion is quickly replaced by anger, and he glares at Lavi with barely-leashed rage. To Lavi’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch.

“Oh, did you wake up?” Lavi asks cheekily. “Allen fell asleep, too. Y’know, there’ve been some funny developments on his face. Wanna see?”

This finally sets Kanda off. He leaps to his feet, holding his sword threateningly over Lavi’s head. This finally seems to rattle the red-haired Exorcist. His smile reflects nervousness as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“You don’t have to get so upset,” he soothes.

Kanda slowly sheathes his Innocence and turns on me, furious.

“Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?” he demands. I shrink back slightly.

“I warned Lavi you’d kill him,” I point out, forcing a smile.

Kanda growls and sits back down, his eyes open and alert as he stares out the window. He attempts to undo the hairstyle without much success. I move beside him to help, but Kanda shoos me away angrily and I return to my seat, leaving him to fumble with the braid.

Restraining a sigh at my comrade’s grouchy mood, my brain backpedals to Lavi’s previous statement.

“Hang on, what _did_ you do to Allen?” I inquire, raising one eyebrow.

“Come on. I’ll show you,” Lavi invites, beaming from ear to ear.

I follow hesitantly as my fellow Exorcist skips down the aisle, stopping before our still-unconscious companion. Kanda’s curiosity gets the better of him and he joins us, halting beside me with his arms folded.

There are indeed some interesting new marks on Allen’s face consisting of a series of thick black marker lines drawn with exquisite precision. His eyes are made to appear open with wide drawn-on eyes bordered by exaggerated, long lashes. A huge, elaborate swirl pattern dominates his right cheek and a handlebar mustache consumes the entirety of his upper lip.

I snort and burst out laughing, wondering how on earth Allen wasn’t awoken by the makeover. Kanda’s eyes narrow in disdain at the artwork, but I can tell he’s fighting a grin, too.

“What do you think?” Lavi asks. He spreads his arms in a “ta-da” gesture.

“Ten out of ten,” I chuckle, covering my mouth to muffle my giggles.

“Should have written Beansprout on his forehead,” Kanda interjects before returning to his seat.

I’m still smiling as I turn to follow, marveling at the fact that despite our grim lives fighting monsters, we’re still capable of ordinary acts of humor like this. These people are still teenagers, as am I. Plus, they seem to genuinely enjoy my company, something I didn’t think I’d find again.

But surrounded by smiles and laughter, I feel that I, for the first time in forever, belong.

The tranquil English weather has morphed into a heavy blizzard by the time we reach our stop. Even I gape at the sheer force of the chilling wind buffeting our faces. In all my years of living in Denmark, I rarely ever witnessed storms like these. The much stranger aspect is that five minutes outside the station, the sky was completely clear.

If Innocence isn’t causing this, I haven’t the slightest idea what else can.

As our small party steps off the platform, we’re greeted by a sole Finder. He’s young with small, dark eyes and a handsome face, but it’s hard to tell much else about his appearance with his hood pulled protectively about his face. Even so, his exposed nose and cheeks are red from the extreme cold.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Michael,” he says in a bright, fruity voice.

Michael moves to shake hands with each of us, but when he gets to Allen, a powerful gust of wind blows an unsuspecting Timcanpy from his perch on his master’s head. Allen acts fast and clasps the golem between his hands before stowing him in his pocket for safekeeping.

“Maybe we’d better go inside,” he suggests.

Bookman and Lavi are already headed in that direction, stopping just inside a small brick building. The solid structure provides shelter from the wind and hanging lanterns banish some of the cold.

Lavi’s voice carries across the sidewalk, barely audible over the howling storm fighting us with every step towards sanctuary.

“This sucks. I guess we’ll have to wait until it dies down,” he calls, beckoning the rest of us to walk faster.

“The problem is we can’t predict when it will,” Michael says regretfully. “These storms sometimes last for days.” I swallow a sigh of dismay at the thought; I don’t mind the cold, but I’ve never been fond of snow.

As Michael, Allen, and I reach the entryway, I notice Kanda is no longer behind us. A glance to my right yields him walking away from the station, seeming not to notice we’ve stopped.

“Kanda!” I yell, but my voice is too quiet and is smothered by the violent weather. I reach over and pull on Allen’s coat sleeve, pointing in the direction of our comrade being quickly concealed by a sheet of pelting white.

Allen nods to me and cups his hands around his mouth.

“Are you leaving?” he hollers, to which Kanda glances lazily over his shoulder.

“Of course. We didn’t come here to sit and do nothing.”

“But—” Allen starts to call after him again, but his words falter when Kanda fully turns back and fixes him with an icy glare.

“You can go ahead and build a snowman or something, Beansprout,” Kanda gibes, the comment dripping with disdain. He glances briefly at me, his expression neutral, before trudging away into the storm.

The jeering words aren’t directed at me, but they ignite a spark of frustration all the same. _Kanda’s been in such a foul mood since the job began. He’s probably just glad to be rid of us,_ I think, but sigh in resignation.

“We should go with him,” I murmur.

“I agree.” Allen pushes strands of hair out of his face, glancing between Kanda and our companions still taking shelter inside. “I don’t like the idea of splitting up in this weather.”

We pace quickly back to the building to collect the rest of the group, bracing ourselves for the idea of braving the violent storm.

In the end, all six of us wind up trekking through the ice and snow. The whole situation is pretty miserable; a thick fall of snow assaults our faces while our feet freeze under drifts of cold fluff.

We soon leave the relative civilization of the station behind, venturing instead into the unpaved expanse of white. A pine forest lies to our right. The trees would provide some relief from the wind, but Kanda, the apparent leader of our little band, steers clear of it. I begin to wonder if he did so on purpose, thinking that we’ll grow tired and turn back without him. Everyone’s sense of loyalty or duty wins out, but it doesn’t make the experience less arduous.

Lavi soon falters and falls to his hands and knees. He stares straight ahead with a look of despair weaving into his green eyes. Kanda appears not to notice and continues onward, but the rest of us halt to allow him brief repose.

“The phrase ‘dying on the street’ comes to mind,” he jokes between labored breaths. Everyone else stares at him, mystified, but I suppress a smile as I offer him a hand up.

We hurry to catch up to Kanda, managing to do so after he abruptly stops at the peak of a nearby hill. He stares with wide eyes at a point several meters ahead. I follow his gaze to see two human shapes lying face-down in the snow; one draped in brown, the other in pink. A thin layer of powder covers them, signifying they’ve been like this for a concerning amount of time.

Allen and I rush to the larger of the two shapes while Lavi bounds over to the pink-clad one, each of us trying fervently to rouse them. Bookman and Michael soon join us, but Kanda remains stationary some distance away, his hand hovering above his sword. _Does he think they’re akuma?_ I ponder, but shove the thought away. _They would have attacked us by now if they were._

I grasp the man’s wrist and take his pulse. It is strong, but slowing rapidly. We need to take them to safety now to avoid serious repercussions.

The man wakes first. He’s tall and broad with a square face and the beginnings of wrinkles etched into his graying features. Dark, tired eyes shift between Allen and me, present but not alert.

“Are you all right? Can you stand?” Allen asks him gently. The man doesn’t respond.

“How’s my dad?” the pink-clad girl asks in a high voice. Beautiful aqua eyes search for her father.

Lavi holds the girl to protect her from the wind, also shielding her from the view of her father. He looks to Allen and me for an answer, his features guarded in case of a somber reply.

Allen glances at me for confirmation. I nod, words escaping me at the prospect of several unfamiliar listening ears.

“He’s okay,” Allen reassures the girl, who sighs in relief.

“We should take them home,” Bookman advises.

“We’re staying at a nearby inn,” the girl corrects him, her words slurred with sleep.

“Then we’ll take you there,” Allen states resolutely. He and I each take hold of one of the man’s arms and hoist him upright. I wobble a little under the added weight, but steady myself quickly.

Lavi and Bookman do the same for the girl and we start back towards the station. However, Kanda still stands atop the hill, seeming to decide something before calling after us.

“I’ll keep going,” he announces, striding past us toward the forest.

“We should stick together,” Allen protests.

“There’s no reason for us to be buddies and act as a group,” Kanda retorts coldly.

 _He shouldn’t go alone. If these two collapsed, not even an Exorcist should venture out by themselves in this weather._ I consider joining him, but my medical knowledge, basic as it may be, could be needed here.

“I’ll go with Kanda,” Michael offers. Kanda offers no comment and strides away, leaving the Finder to catch up.

This assuages some of my fears, but Allen still seems ready to argue.

“Allen, we’ll go search after taking these two back,” Lavi assures him, and we begin the trek back to town with two new companions in tow.

Back at the inn, Bookman, Lavi, Allen, and I sit around a small table as the tempting aroma of soup fills the room. The landlady kneels over the fireplace in the far corner, cooking another batch of soup. The first went to the pair of travelers now recuperating upstairs. Neither of them contracted frostbite, so it’s just a matter of keeping them warm and fed until they recover.

The girl, Elda, sweetly accepted our care with frequent apologies and warm smiles. I suspect that the chatty girl would have told us more about her adventure if exhaustion hadn’t pulled her into sleep’s clutches again. Perhaps she can give us some information about the town later.

Elda’s father is a different story. He seems cross with us for whatever reason, refusing to make eye contact or speak much at all. The only tidbit we could get out of him was his name: Frey. He accepted our help with only begrudging murmurs and sideways glances. I wish I knew why, but all I could detect in his muddled brain was desperation and the loss of someone precious some time ago. It doesn’t explain why he’s angry with us.

Timcanpy is perched on my shoulder and head-butts me in the neck, startling me out of my thoughts. I purse my lips in annoyance and glance at my winged companion, but he only swishes his tail once and tilts his head to one side. My frustration immediately ebbs; I can’t be mad at something so cute.

“I wonder where they were headed in such horrible weather,” Allen speculates.

“They went looking for it,” the landlady mutters vaguely. She briefly glances back at us, her lively eyes brightening a plump face. Then she bends over the pot of food again and says nothing else.

“Went looking for what?” Allen prompts.

“The Leaf of Revival.” Our host sounds surprised, as if this should be common knowledge. “Rumors have been flying for ages that it’s hidden nearby.”

The rest of us look to each other. If there’s Innocence in the area, this is definitely it.

“The Leaf of Revival is a mysterious object that appears in Norse mythology. It is said that the hero Sigmund discovered it,” Bookman explains, appearing deep in thought. “It can revive the lives of those who died before their time; those who died in accidents and such.”

 _That would explain the loss I sensed in Frey. But who is he trying to bring back?_ I wonder.

“Sometimes people come here in search of that nonexistent leaf and the weather turns awful every time,” the landlady interjects. “What trouble…”

We give Kanda and Michael until after lunch the next day to find the inn, agreeing to go look for them if they still haven’t returned by then.

Much to my concern, neither of them shows up. They may have just stayed the night somewhere else and be safe in town, but a nagging fear still whispers in the back of my mind.

Allen, Lavi, and I meet just outside the inn, taking in the scenery now that the storm has died down. The only indications of last night’s blizzard are thick drifts of snow that cause our feet to sink like rocks with every step.

“This is much better,” Allen muses happily, the sky reflecting soft blue tones in his silver eyes.

“Mm-hmm,” Lavi agrees, and we all waste a few moments gazing up at the beautiful blue expanse.

Suddenly the chilly natural breeze takes a turn. This wind is hot and angry like the kind during a dry summer storm. It is not a welcome change, despite the previous cold.

“What the heck?!” Lavi mutters. “How is this wind hot?”

Another gust dislodges a mound of snow from the roof. It lands loudly nearby, causing me to let out a rather undignified squeak of fright. Laughter abounds from each of us and I blush in embarrassment.

“Where’s Bookman?” Allen asks, looking around.

“He said he’d rest at the inn,” Lavi replies. “The change of weather seems to be hard on him, since he’s quite old.”

“Oh. Then shall we go?” Allen inquires.

Lavi and I share a confused glance.

“Toward the direction the wind was coming from,” Allen explains. “If Innocence is causing the weather, it’s probably in that direction.”

“Elda and Frey came from that direction too. The storm likely kicked up because they got closer to the source,” I add, recalling my mental map from yesterday.

“Boy, you two are smart,” Lavi compliments.

We three set out into the wind, but stop when the inn’s side door opens before us. Elda steps out, her spiky, shoulder-length blonde hair detangled and her winter gear clear of snow. She immediately recognizes us and smiles in greeting.

“Good morning. Sorry for the trouble we caused yesterday,” she says.

“Are you heading out again? That’s probably not a good idea,” Allen advises hesitantly.

Frey appears in the doorway behind his daughter holding two pairs of skis. His typical severe expression hardens in dislike at our presence, the comparatively amiable silence from last night long gone.

“Well, we can’t let you guys find the Leaf of Revival before we do,” Frey grumbles.

“Ah, well we aren’t—” Allen starts.

“Put these on, Elda,” Frey interrupts, handing his daughter a pair of skis. They both strap them on and leisurely depart, gliding easily over deep piles of snow.

“Whoa, those look handy,” Lavi comments. I grin at the idea; it’s been forever since I’ve gone skiing. Allen, on the other hand, looks nervous. Still, he agrees and we file back inside to get our own equipment.

After we get our gear strapped on, Lavi and I get to witness Allen attempt to ski for the first time. He puts on the first ski just fine, but loses his balance while fastening the second one. Unfortunately for him, we happen to be standing next to a large hill. Allen manages to remain upright and speeds down the hill on one foot, screaming all the while.

“Turn your feet!” Lavi hollers after him.

“Just sit down!” I shout.

Allen doesn’t hear either of us and keeps going, rocketing past Elda and her father before reaching the foot of the incline and tumbling to a stop.

Lavi and I follow more slowly, sliding to a halt beside our friend still lying face-down in the snow. Timcanpy lands on his master and sits straight and proud as if saying, “tada!” I stifle laughter as Allen lifts his head.

“Are you all right?” Lavi inquires, but I can tell he’s fighting a smile, too.

“Yes, that was a nasty fall,” Elda adds, coming over to join us.

“I’m okay. Thank you,” Allen answers, swiftly fastening the second ski after Lavi and I pull him upright. “But by the way…” Allen hesitates, faltering as he glances between Frey and Elda.

“Yes?” Elda encourages apprehensively.

“We’ve heard that even the locals don’t set foot beyond here,” Allen finishes. “You never know what kind of danger you’ll encounter. You should go back.”

 _Right. Bad weather aside, there might be akuma wandering around,_ I realize, thinking in concern of Kanda and Michael.

A long moment of silence passes and Elda looks as if she’s about to agree, but Frey puts a hand on her shoulder and steps forward.

“You’re just trying to take the leaf for yourselves,” Frey accuses.

“What we’re looking for isn’t the Leaf of Revival,” Allen corrects him patiently. “We can’t disclose exactly what, but it’s something different.”

 _Why not tell them? I didn’t realize Innocence’s existence was that secret. And it might save them some time and trouble,_ I wonder. _Maybe he thinks Frey will still go after Innocence._

“We’re Exorcists, clergymen whose exclusive job is to destroy demons,” Allen continues.

“Exorcists?” Elda echoes, mystified.

“Demons? Humph! There’s no way such a thing exists,” Frey sneers haughtily.

“And the Leaf of Revival does?” I retort without thinking.

Frey glares at me and a moment of tense silence passes. I hold his stare as best I can. The words may have been unintentional, but I stand by what I said.

“I still think you shouldn’t go,” Allen says quietly. “You’ll only regret trying to revive the dead. There’s a certain someone who will try to take advantage of that.” A note of sadness emerges in his voice, one that sparks my curiosity.

“What do you know?!” Frey snarls, raising his ski pole as if he means to hit us. Lavi has no discernable reaction, but Allen’s face blanks and I raise my hands instinctively to protect my face.

Thankfully, Elda steps between us and waves her hands frantically.

“Stop it, Dad!” she pleads.

“Lavi, Evelyn, let’s go,” Allen murmurs, and we depart to avoid any further confrontation.

My hands are still shaking as the pair vanishes from sight.

Allen quickly gets accustomed to the skis and we glide along at a decent pace for about an hour before another weather change slows us down. The hot breeze morphs into a freezing wind and snow begins to fall in icy sheets. Visibility is awful, so we’re forced to move much slower to keep from running into trees or losing each other.

“It changed again,” Allen sighs, looking downcast.

“Oh, man,” Lavi mutters.

I blink snowflakes from my lashes, tucking my free hand against my middle to keep it warm. This storm is even worse than yesterday’s. I can barely see two feet in front of me.

 _Ugh. I’ll be happy if I never see snow again after this,_ I think, flicking white specks off my sleeve.

“Do you think Kanda’s okay?” Allen asks unexpectedly.

I look to Lavi for an answer. That thought has been plaguing my mind, as well.

“Yu can take care of himself. I’m more worried about the Finder who went with him,” Lavi answers pensively.

“What does that mean?” I inquire uneasily. I recall Kanda’s previous statement that he wasn’t responsible for my protection and wonder how much he meant it. _Michael’s not even on his team. He wouldn’t abandon him, would he?_ I ask myself, but quickly stifle those speculations. _He carried that attitude about Allen, too, but always stepped in if he thought he was truly in danger. They’ll both be fine._

“Uh, look,” Allen gapes, pointing back some ways behind us.

I turn to see Frey helping Elda over the crest of a hill, following our ski tracks. _They tailed us this whole time,_ I realize, but I’m not overly surprised.

Still, the pair looks worn out and are moving far slower than we are. If they continue much longer, they’ll likely collapse a second time.

“Shall we take a break? If we keep going, we’ll probably have to rescue them again,” Allen suggests, his brain following the same path as mine.

“Yeah. Let’s,” Lavi agrees.

We dig a small snow cave and build a fire in the center, taking different spots around its perimeter to keep warm. Elda and Frey join us soon after, sitting wordlessly beside us as they rummage through their packs.

Fear still strikes me at being so close to Frey after his violent outburst earlier, but I force myself to relax. The two seem calm and harmless enough at the moment. Elda even retrieves several mugs of tea and warms them over the fire before divvying them out to each of us.

“Thank you,” I murmur. I’ve never liked tea that much, but right now it is the best drink I’ve ever had. Its warmth settles in my stomach and spreads outwards, breathing energy into my lethargic limbs.

“You seem well prepared,” Lavi remarks happily.

“My Dad’s pretty reckless with ventures like this, so I do what I can to support him,” Elda remarks, but there’s no sense of satisfaction or contentedness on her face. She hands a cup of tea to Frey, who accepts it with a distrustful glance at us.

“Why do we have to be with them?” he complains.

“You’re the ones who followed us,” Allen counters. He’s been the level-headed one thus far, but this seems to finally push him to anger. His eyes darken in warning and he glares at Frey for a long moment before relaxing.

“Dad, why don’t you sleep a little? Just until the storm calms down,” Elda advises. She pulls a blanket over her father. He doesn’t even thank her.

“Wow, you really are prepared,” Lavi observes jovially. “If we get lost, all we can do is cuddle to warm ourselves.” Lavi glances between Allen and me, raising his eyebrows suggestively. I snort in amusement while Allen makes a face and shrinks away.

The banter helps put me at ease, despite the tense situation. I settle tiredly into our little cove and wait for the blizzard to pass.

I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until my ears register footsteps. I bolt awake battle-ready, expecting Frey to be undertaking revenge for my previous remark, but find Lavi standing beside me.

“Easy, it’s just me,” he whispers, looking startled but concerned.

I try to apologize, but my throat feels constricted and no sound comes out at first. A deep breath opens my airways and calms me somewhat. A portion of the fear leaves me and speech comes more freely.

“Sorry,” I get out, still struggling to compose myself.

“It’s no biggie,” Lavi laughs it off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Are we leaving?” I ask, glancing over at Frey and Elda. They are both soundly asleep.

“No. We’ll give them about five more minutes to rest and then carry on,” Lavi replies. “Allen and I are just stretching our legs. You want to come?”

I’m still a little tired, but after my episode just now, falling back asleep probably isn’t a good idea. I nod and rise, clambering out of the hole beside Lavi.

Allen is already outside with Timcanpy, staring pensively through the woods. He glances momentarily at us before turning back to the vast world.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he remarks.

Although several feet of snow still coats the ground, the blizzard has stopped altogether, leaving the hot wind in its place. The sun is setting in a brilliant display of red and gold, its rays reflecting off the snow’s white until it seems as if the whole forest is in flames. It is hauntingly beautiful, indeed.

The three of us stand together for several minutes in silence, simply appreciating the beauty of the dying day, the vibrant end seeming to promise an even brighter tomorrow.

I watch my companions as well, how the light makes orange streaks dance through Lavi’s bright red hair like wind baiting a growing fire, or how it adds deep crimson flecks to Allen’s grey eyes, and wonder if the same striking progression is visible in my features, too.

Finally shuffling in the pit catches my attention. I turn to see Elda climbing up beside us, her watery eyes wide. Only they aren’t filled with awe. No, they are plagued with terrible fear at the sunset’s splashes of color.

“Pardon me,” Elda calls quietly. “Please go on without us. We’ll be all right.” She comes to stand beside us, the pink hue of her coat clashing with the red sun. It fights against the light, rejects it. “And I’m sorry my father was so rude to you.”

“That’s all right,” Allen replies, but his tone is somewhat strained. I can understand why.

 _It should be Frey apologizing for his mistakes, not his daughter,_ I think angrily.

“I don’t actually think the Leaf of Revival exists,” Elda admits, much to my surprise. “But I’m hoping this will make him feel better. The death of my younger brother was very hard on him.”

“Then he’s the one your father wants to revive?” Allen infers.

“Yes. Jacob was killed when our house burned down. My parents and I got out in time. My brother had bad legs since birth and wasn’t fast enough. Dad wanted to go back for him, but it was too dangerous. So…I stopped him.” Elda pauses and looks away. I can still feel the guilt radiating off of her. “Since then, Mom has been confined to bed and Dad won’t look me in the face. So I’m not stopping him anymore. I’m letting him do what he wants. And a while ago, I heard that Sigmund got his son killed over something trivial. But he revived him by placing the Leaf of Revival over his body. I let Dad think what he would of it, and here we are.”

No one responds, save for sorrowful looks and sympathetic nods.

 _She’s leading her father on this wild goose chase in hopes he’ll be satisfied and let Jacob go,_ I realize. _She’s done all this for him because she feels guilty…I didn’t know guilt could drive a person to do this much._

Frey stirs and rises to his feet, grabbing his backpack before climbing up to meet us.

“Let’s get going.”

We set out again with the somber weight of our mission hanging over us. Elda and Frey actually travel _with_ us this time, although they still let us take the lead. The rest of the journey is silent and uneventful until we reach an open clearing and three figures loom on the horizon.

The first is a woman with blonde hair so light I’d consider it white and ice blue eyes that seem to shine with light reflected off the snow. She’s clad in a lavender dress that hugs her hips and leans casually against a tree, plucking at her nails as if she was waiting for us to arrive.

Two other men stand just behind her; one tall and gangly with sunken features and the other short and rotund.

Everyone swivels to a halt as quickly as the skis allow, gazing apprehensively at the newcomers. Three travelers shouldn’t be a cause for concern, but something about them makes my skin crawl. Judging by Lavi and Allen’s wary expressions, they feel the same.

“What’s going on?” Frey asks.

“We got lost,” the woman calls, swaggering towards us with anything but the weariness of a lost traveler. “This is such good timing! Could we come along with you?”

I’m about to delve into the newcomers’ minds to see their intentions, but there’s no need. Allen’s eye activates with a whir, confirming my suspicions.

“You’re akuma, aren’t you?”

I extend my powers into the akumas’ hearts to double check and find that Allen is right. I find only emptiness, signaling the body’s host is already dead.

The three demons exchange a glance filled with frightening anticipation now that we’ve guessed their secret. Their bodies balloon and explode, vines of darkness weaving into the sky until the true form of the akuma takes shape.

The woman transforms into a serpent with a human face and armor like a professional athlete, complete with large pores that no doubt house weapons. Two large screws poke through her middle instead of appendages and a long tail with a snowflake-shaped spike on the end propels her through the air.

The short man morphs into a simple dome with visible cannons on every side. A thin, veiny tentacle extends from the top and yields to the akuma’s face, a perfect sphere with bulging, spinning eyeballs and a skull-like mouth.

The larger man turns into a giant robotic lizard with claws and teeth that are taller than I am, bulky legs, and a tail.

All three are at least six meters tall and command a terrifying presence. They leer down at us with all the confidence of someone who knows they’re on the winning side.

I run two fingers discreetly along the back of my gloved hand. A sense of power rushes to life beneath my fingertips, but somehow it doesn’t instill confidence in my ability to fight these monsters.

“What level are these?” I ask meekly.

“All level two,” Lavi answers slowly, carefully, and I realize he is just as scared as I am.

“Tell us where the Innocence is!” the lizard demands, leaning over us like a building on the verge of collapse.

“Like we’d tell you even if we knew,” Lavi scoffs, going for a bravado I know he doesn’t feel.

“How dare you?!” The eyeball akuma sounds personally offended at our refusal. He fires snow projectiles at us from the cannons on his sides, spewing them about at random. Allen, Lavi, and I group together to shield Frey and Elda, letting our Innocence absorb the hits.

My heart jolts with every hit my glove takes and I flinch constantly, but manage to hold my ground. It’s more than I ever managed back in Denmark.

“Hurry! Leave now!” Lavi yells to Frey and Elda. They turn and speed away, making a dash for safety.

Lavi raises his Innocence, what I see as a measly hammer until it grows to the size of a small truck. I gape at the transformation and Lavi chuckles.

“This is my power. Pretty cool, huh?” He grins and raises the hammer back before swinging it down to strike a nearby drift of snow. The tossed powder flies straight at the eyeball akuma and hits it in the face, obstructing its vision. It’s not enough to destroy it, but it should keep it out of the fight for a few minutes.

The serpent finally comes forward, swishing her tail impatiently.

“Not bad. But I wonder how those two civilians are doing,” she purrs, looking around in an attempt to spot Elda and Frey.

“Don’t even think about it,” Allen growls, firing several rounds of bullets at the serpent. They explode in mid-air and a plume of smoke obstructs our view of the enemy for several seconds. When the air clears, all three of them have vanished.

I curse my lacking psychic ability, that I can’t detect the non-living akuma until they pop out of the ground simultaneously.

The lizard and eyeball akuma emerge before Lavi and me, so we group together and stand back-to-back to face them. The serpent akuma targets Allen, who has moved a short distance away. It bursts from the snow just behind him with a triumphant grin.

The serpent fires a blast of cold air from the pores all over its body, stirring up the snow on the ground in a thick cloud and blowing it on top of Allen. The young Exorcist struggles to remain upright against the cloud’s massive force, holding up his left arm in a vain attempt to shield himself.

My instincts scream at me to help him, but he’s managing well enough for now and I can’t leave Lavi to fight two akuma alone. Instead I remain where I am, my brain whirling as a plan of attack fails to emerge.

Lavi enlarges his Innocence’s mallet and strikes at the lizard akuma, who catches the object in its giant palm and the two engage in a contest of brute force.

The eyeball akuma sidles up to Lavi’s right, intending to strike him while he’s distracted. _I don’t think so._ I jump between them and rush toward the demon’s main body, punching the metal exterior as hard as I can. Blue sparks crackle at the point of contact and the akuma careens backwards, hissing in pain and rage.

“Hey, you little bitch! That hurts!” it snarls, firing a single snow projectile from a cannon on its side.

The instructions from my unit’s training pop into my brain and I try to dodge, I really do, but fear renders me motionless. Suddenly it’s like I’m back in Aabenra and the monster before me has sandy brown eyes instead of bulging black ones. My brain short-circuits and I can only think, _he’s going to hurt me and there’s nothing I can do about it._

The akuma’s attack lands and I’m thrown backwards several meters, pinned down and struggling to breathe as I shove the massive hunk of snow aside. I scramble to my feet. Pain ravages my entire body, but that seems like nothing compared to my constricted airways. _I can’t panic. I can’t panic,_ I repeat doggedly, massaging my throat as if I can force more air through.

 _What do I do?! I can’t hit the akuma from a distance, so how do I safely get in close? I feel so useless,_ I ponder, thoughts flashing through my brain like lightning strikes.

“Are you okay?” Lavi calls.

My words are locked away and I can’t answer just yet. Instead I race back to him and block the eyeball demon’s path again, still struggling to force my fear away.

“How long have you been in training?” Lavi inquires, frowning.

“T-Three days,” I answer nervously.

Lavi’s mouth falls open in shock. He momentarily loses his grip on his Innocence and the lizard demon gains some ground, but he swiftly forces him back.

“Three days?! They sent you to the front lines that soon?!” he exclaims.

I shrug, keeping my eyes trained on the eyeball demon while I wait for it to make a move.

“What should I do? I don’t think I can get in close without being hit,” I admit. After all, the next shot I’m unable to dodge might not be a half-hearted strike.

“Hmm,” Lavi mutters, pensive. “Follow my lead. I can get you in close.”

Lavi abruptly withdraws from the lizard’s reach, leaving it to stumble without the prior resistance to keep it steady. He sets the mallet on the ground and we both leap onto it, gripping the handle as it extends like a sliding ladder and we soar upwards. It’s a bit of a shock, but I adjust and curl my gloved hand into a fist.

“Go for the lizard. He’s slower so you’ll have more time to dodge when he attacks,” Lavi advises, and I nod.

Lavi tips the hammer forwards and we plummet toward the metal reptile’s face. When we’re directly above it, I jump and aim for its right eye, bracing for impact. Lavi shortens his Innocence and swings it at the left side of its face. If both of our attacks land, hopefully the akuma will be destroyed for good.

No such luck. The lizard raises itself on its back feet and intercepts both of our hits with its front claws, holding us captive dangerously high above the ground.

I struggle to free myself until Allen’s voice sounds faintly from below.

“Lavi! Evelyn! Get out of here!” he hollers, and I gasp when I locate his limp form.

Allen lies beneath a growing blanket of snow, more being shoveled on him by the second as the serpent’s wind attack overwhelms him. Only the green light of his Innocence is visible, but soon that will be covered too and he’ll freeze to death without help. Lavi follows my gaze and swears in frustration, pulling against the lizard’s grip in vain.

All three of us are subdued and easy prey for the akuma.

The eyeball demon advances toward Lavi and me, readying the dozen cannons. This time, there really is nothing I can do to stop it. Only a few more seconds and we’re goners.

Suddenly a familiar shape bursts from under the trees, a flash of glowing blue held aloft.

“Netherworld creature Ichigen!”

All three akuma look around to see hell’s insects cutting through the air like missiles. They puncture their targets and the demons howl in pain and frustration.

Kanda rushes forward, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

The blow was not enough to destroy the akuma, but it makes them think twice about staying in the fight.

“Withdraw!” the serpent shrieks, taking off for the shelter of the woods.

The lizard hesitates before relinquishing its hold on Lavi and me. We fall the significant distance to the ground and land heavily. Neither of us rises for several moments.

Every part of me hurts and the freezing air slices at my throat with every gasping breath I draw in. Still, concern for my friends prevails and I roll onto my stomach, only stumbling once as I scramble upright.

Lavi stands as well, grinning as he leans against his Innocence.

“Yu is on the scene!” he announces, but receives a cold glare in return.

I throw Kanda a grateful look and rush over to Allen, who still lies motionless with his face buried beneath a sheet of white. I roll him onto his back as Lavi joins me, brushing snow off Allen’s face and out of his hair. Timcanpy lands on his owner’s shoulder, nudging his cheek.

Kanda remains some distance away and doesn’t even spare us a glance. Keeping watch, I suppose.

“Allen, can you hear me?” I ask, barely leashing panic at my friend’s pallid complexion.

Allen’s silver eyes blink open, bleary and unfocused as they shift between Lavi and me. I breathe a sigh of relief until he falls unconscious again, his head lolling to one side.

“Allen? Allen!” Lavi yells, but to no avail.

I shake Allen’s shoulder, despite knowing the risk of doing this to an injured person. If he falls asleep now, he may never wake up again.

Growing desperate, I exhale and reach out with my mind, locking onto the gentle soul lying before me. It lies partially concealed under a blanket of sleep that falls heavily over the vibrancy of Allen’s consciousness. But it doesn’t show any indication of snuffing out its light. So long as we don’t dawdle, Allen should recover quickly.

Some of my fear diminishing, I withdraw into my own body and my vision swoops back into focus. The world never stops moving in the seconds when I am no longer present, so it takes me a moment to reorient myself.

Lavi and I are still bent over Allen, but Kanda has joined us, his opaque blue-black eyes peering into mine expectantly. He must have asked me a question.

“Sorry, what?” I fumble. Kanda’s eyes shutter, inquiry replaced with thinly-veiled annoyance.

“We need to get him back to the inn,” he repeats, gently pushing me aside with one hand so I’m not in the way. “We can’t afford to waste any time.”

Lavi shakes his head as if to clear it and his face sets in determination. He picks up Allen’s limp body and pulls him onto his back, letting Allen’s arms drape over his shoulders.

“Come on,” Lavi grunts, heading back in the direction of the inn.

I start to follow and Kanda keeps pace beside me. He tries to catch my eye, but I stubbornly focus on the surrounding forest instead. I really don’t want to face awkward questions about my slip-up after zoning out.

Dissatisfied, Kanda catches my arm. His grip isn’t hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to ensure he has my full attention.

“I’m leaving you to keep watch at the rear. Do you think you can handle that?” he demands, his words lashing at me like sword strikes.

The logical side of my brain recognizes he has no intention of hurting me, but my breath still ceases, fear paralyzing my limbs. Kanda notices and immediately releases me.

“I need an answer,” he says more softly.

 _He would never hurt me,_ I remind myself, forcing my gaze to meet his.

“Yes.” It’s only one word, but it feels like all the progress in the world.

Kanda nods and trudges ahead, passing Lavi to lead the way back. He walks much faster than our original pace so Lavi and I have to rush to catch up.

 _What’s his problem? I know he’s impatient with weakness, but this is ridiculous. We were doing the best we could and Allen and I are still new to the job. Cut us some slack,_ I think. _Why save us if he’s just going to act like this afterwards?_

Allen regains consciousness about halfway back and deems himself strong enough to walk the remaining distance. Although slightly unsteady, his footfalls become more regular every minute.

Elda and Frey are already waiting for us by the time we make it back. Bookman is evidentially still resting and Allen’s condition has vastly improved, so we decide not to wake him. Instead Lavi steers him towards a couch in the lobby while Elda fetches a quilt for him to wrap up in. Within a few minutes, everyone is settled in the main room to regroup.

Allen remains on the couch. He bundles up in blankets as if hiding in a cocoon. Color has returned to his face, although the faint sound of chattering teeth is still audible above the crackling of the fire in the corner.

Lavi and Elda hover on either side of him like doting parents, offering their body heat in addition to the blankets. Frey remains standing, brooding in the shadows of the corner farthest from the fireplace. Kanda takes a seat around the high-set table near the window. There’s an extra seat across from him, but I settle in an armchair beside the couch. I’m still peeved at him for his sour attitude and unsure of my reception after our brief squabble. Kanda throws me a glance but says nothing.

Elda places her hand over Allen’s forehead and her eyes fly wide.

“You have a fever!” she exclaims.

I hop to my feet to retrieve a wet cloth or the like, but Allen’s voice calls me back.

“I’m really okay,” he reassures us, burrowing deeper into the blankets to avoid our prying eyes.

“You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” Lavi protests.

“How pathetic. You couldn’t even defeat a single akuma?” Kanda growls. Every gaze in the room turns to him. “If you find them, don’t let them escape. Wipe them out.”

 _You didn’t defeat them either. You let them run away after one hit._ I feel my temper rising higher and barely manage to bite back the words.

Lavi raises one eyebrow, looking unsettled.

“You’re merciless, Yu. To akuma as well as your colleagues,” he ventures.

Kanda glowers at him.

“Where’s the Finder, Michael?” Allen asks abruptly. I suddenly remember that he is indeed missing.

Kanda turns his head away sharply.

“I left him.”

The words take a moment to sink in. Then my last strand of patience snaps. Fury swells in my chest and bubbles up until my throat feels red-hot.

“You bastard,” I snarl, the words spilling out of me like boiling magma. “What is your problem?!”

Shock plays on Kanda’s features for a moment before he composes himself, settling for detached coldness.

“What is your problem?” he challenges.

I flounder for a second. Can he really be that oblivious?

“You’ve been taking your bad mood out on everyone since we first got here,” I snap. “You’ve been cruel and unforgiving of our mistakes and now you’re telling us you abandoned Michael?!”

“He’s a Finder. He can take care of himself.”

“You left an unarmed man to fend for himself in a blizzard with three level two akuma on the loose!”

Kanda’s expression hardens in anger and he opens his mouth to retort, but falters and says nothing. He averts his gaze to the window, grinding his teeth in frustration.

 _That’s what I thought._ Anger threatens to swallow me whole and I briefly shut my eyes to force it back down. _I need to leave and cool off._ Going to look for Michael seems like my best option. Venturing out now is dangerous, yes, but I’ll be damned if we leave him out there.

I turn to leave at the precise moment the front door swings open and Michael steps through. He shrugs a massive amount of snow off his coat, but seems otherwise okay.

“Michael! Good to see you,” Lavi exclaims.

“Are you okay?” Allen asks. The question sounds kind of funny coming from someone buried in blankets to stifle a fever.

“Yep. All’s quiet out there,” Michael answers with a smile. He looks to Kanda, who is no longer paying attention.

Still fuming but satisfied that Michael is safe, I stride past him and make for the door once again.

“Where are you off to?” Lavi calls warily.

“To keep watch outside,” I reply, forcing the remaining anger from my voice.

I reach the threshold and look back one final time. Kanda finally glances in my direction. His face is tense, as if he wants to say more. _Stay. There’s more to this. He had to have a valid reason,_ a voice in the back of my mind whispers. _But I thought that about my parents too._

I shut the door and step out onto the porch.

______________________________________________

The front door snicks shut, sealing Evelyn in the frigid world beyond. The conversation seems to follow her, as the cabin is silent apart from the subtle slapping of Michael’s boots against the floor. It ceases when he settles in the chair across from me.

The only communication is through gestures; Lavi and Allen exchanging uncertain glances and Michael extending his hand across the table to gain my attention. I nod to him, a thank-you and an apology. He smiles, an acceptance.

Several more minutes pass and no one works up the courage to say anything. Finally I sigh, my patience growing thin.

“There’s no point in just sitting here. I’m leaving to search for the Innocence,” I announce, anchoring Mugen at my side as I stand.

Frey rises to meet me, the sourness in his gaze daring me to object.

Fine. I have no power over his actions or his stupidity. But a glance at Elda yields her nervously bouncing on the balls of her feet after pacing to her father’s side. It’s clear she isn’t invested in the endeavor, but is accompanying Frey all the same.

“Are you going to get lost again?” I growl, glancing sideways at my surly companion.

“Leave me alone,” Frey snaps.

Elda’s eyes widen in dismay at my not-so-subtle hint and she sets her face more firmly.

“If my father’s going, I’m going too,” she declares adamantly.

“Do you even care if your daughter gets lost with you?” I press.

Frey finally falters.

“The snowstorm still hasn’t died down. I don’t think anyone should go,” Allen hedges.

“Good idea,” Lavi says lightly, throwing an arm around Allen’s shoulders. “You and Michael can watch over them while Yu and I go.”

I almost snap at him for using my first name, but force the retort back. If he can convince the others to stay behind, I won’t intervene.

Allen still looks like he wants to protest, but Lavi cuts him off.

“We’ll be back before you know it. Don’t worry.”

Freezing air blasts our faces as soon as we step outside. Snow rains down like gunfire until it feels as if jagged blades of ice are falling from the sky.

Evelyn is perched on a rocking chair on the far side of the porch. It takes me a moment to identify her huddled with her coat hood pulled like a shield around her head. Only a few strands of curly navy blue escape the hood’s confines, waving wildly in the wind. She’s too absorbed into her thoughts to notice our presence until Lavi calls her name.

“We’re headed out to search again. Want to come with?” he inquires, practically shouting to be heard over the storm.

“Of course,” Evelyn answers, hopping to her feet. Her eyes are focused on Lavi as she answers the question and remain trained on the vast snowy world beyond as we set out. _Two can play at that game,_ I think, turning my focus away from her.

_One of our groups must have passed the Innocence at some point._ I recall the how intense the blizzard grew when hiking with Michael before dying down again after we left the foot of the mountains. Did the others experience something similar?

“Where were you when the storm was at its worst?” I ask.

“Hmm…” Lavi scratches his head. “Around the base of the mountains, I’d guess. Does that sound right?” He looks to Evelyn, who gives a hesitant nod.

_Then if my hunch is right about the wind being the source…_ “That’s where we’re headed,” I announce, veering slightly to the left.

Both Evelyn and Lavi follow without question. They must have the same theory. I’m tempted to ask, but conversation doesn’t seem to be a welcome endeavor right now.

We travel for several minutes without incident. The akuma have yet to show up and the weather has remained unchanged, so there’s nothing to distract me from thinking about earlier.

I glance at Evelyn, who hasn’t said a word to me since we left the cabin. Her face is expressionless, but I wonder how true that indifference really is.

The main reason I can tolerate Evelyn’s company better than most is her quiet demeanor. She doesn’t feel the need to fill empty silences, which provides for a lot less annoying small talk. That silent companionship normally provides a sense of acceptance. Now, however, it only adds to the cold, suffocating atmosphere that seems to always shadow me.

Still, I can’t help but want to smirk. Evelyn’s outburst has dissolved my worries of her being too soft for this profession. As timid as she’s been thus far, it seems she has a backbone after all.

My remaining suspicions about her intentions also dissipate. Based on the magnitude of her anger, she follows a similar foolishly naïve moral compass to the Beansprout’s. I don’t trust her, exactly; I haven’t known her nearly long enough for that to develop. However, I detect parts of my emotional fortress starting to crumble.

I’m even tempted to tell her the reasons why I made the decisions she’s currently fuming over.

I immediately shut down the idea. The temptation to talk openly with anyone is a very dangerous prospect. If I do and Evelyn truly can’t be trusted, there would be serious consequences for me. So I banish Evelyn from my mind and focus on the task at hand, though I can’t help but feel the dead weight of the silence as we continue on.

“We’re going on a friendly field trip,” Lavi sings after a while.

“Shut up,” I grumble. Is the tension really that obvious?

“You’re cold, Yu,” Lavi pouts.

“Can it!”

Evelyn merely glances between us and says nothing.

Lavi dials back to humming for the remainder of the trip. It’s a cheery song, not one that I recognize. As aggravating as the repetitive verses get after, oh, twice, I don’t bother starting an argument. Better to pick my battles.

Once the base of the mountain comes into view, the storm worsens from moderate snowfall to a vicious blizzard.

 _We must be getting close,_ I think, panning my gaze along the mountainside in search of anything out of the ordinary. All that’s visible is a tunnel entrance that could lead to anything from a two-foot wide shelter to a bear den. It’s at least worth checking out. 

Lavi and Evelyn locate the entrance a moment after I do. We collectively venture forward, but are forced to stop after a single step when the blizzard kicks up even more.

The wind howls in our faces like an incessant scream, its sheer force making it impossible to take another step towards the mountain. It’s all I can do to lean into the wind to keep from flying backwards. Evelyn and Lavi appear to be having similar luck; they merely squint and raise a hand to shield their eyes from the pelting snow.

“Think this is the place?” I call. The tunnel itself is rather unassuming, but if the weather is this bad, there’s a huge chance it houses Innocence.

“Let’s go inside and see!” Lavi hollers.

“Easier said than done,” I point out. “We can’t get closer like this.”

“Well, if we just need a brief opening…”

Lavi grins and draws his Innocence, swinging it high above his head. He holds it aloft for a moment, adjusting his stance to stop the wind from toppling him over.

“Stamp! Tree circle!” Lavi commands, slamming the mallet to the ground. He then points his index finger to the sky, peering up at the dismal clouds. “Spinning Disk of Heaven and Earth!”

A pillar of red light erupts from the hammer and bolts up through the cloud layer. The blanket of dark gray covering the sky dissipates, leaving only the stars shining over us.

 _One of Lavi’s special abilities that controls nature,_ I recall, having seen this trick a time or two before.

“Let’s get inside while we can,” Lavi advises, and the three of us make our way towards the entrance.

Not quick enough. The blizzard fires up once again just as we reach the mouth of the cave. This time, it’s clear the source of the foul weather is curiously the _inside_ of the cave rather than the sky.

 _We’re definitely in the right place,_ I realize, even as frustration pulses through me that we can’t move closer.

“Damn. So close,” Lavi swears.

A soft noise catches my attention, and at first I mistake it for the wind. But I glance back to see Evelyn’s mouth closing and realize she must have said something.

“Speak up,” I call.

Evelyn’s gaze flits briefly in my direction, but in the end she leans forward and tugs on Lavi’s sleeve. I can’t help a flash of irritation as Lavi glances back at her.

“Let’s withdraw,” Evelyn suggests, her quiet voice hardly reaching my ears. “I have an idea.”

Not long after the cave disappears from our line of sight, the weather tapers off some and Evelyn stops, plopping down with her back against a small pine. She sits cross-legged and drums her fingers on her thighs while she waits for us to join her.

I’m apprehensive as I sit facing her. What could Evelyn have thought of that I overlooked?

“I think the secret to getting in is our thoughts,” Evelyn says.

Lavi and I exchange a glance.

“No, really,” she insists. “Think about it. We’ve passed this cave before, but only now has the storm gotten this bad. Why?”

“Intent!” Lavi exclaims, snapping his fingers.

“Right,” Evelyn smiles. “The storm’s severity is tied to the intentions of the people nearby. The locals aren’t affected by the storms because they aren’t looking for anything supernatural. Only outsiders who come searching for the Leaf of Revival set it off. Plus, the storm dies down when we’re travelling away from it.”

“And this helps us how? We’re still screwed if we try to get closer,” I mutter.

Evelyn finally makes eye contact with me, two orbs of ocean blue raging like a hurricane.

“Not necessarily. We passed by here earlier without knowing the Innocence was here and it didn’t react as much,” she replies, her voice surprisingly emotionless. “Maybe if we push thoughts of retrieving the Innocence from our minds, fool it into thinking we’re just oblivious passersby, we can get inside.”

“Good idea. Let’s go test it out,” Lavi agrees, leaping to his feet to lead the way back to the cave.

_There’s no way this is going to work,_ I think as we trudge closer to the tunnel entrance.

“So are we just supposed to think about happiness and rainbows?” I ask.

“Whatever you want, save for our actual goal,” Evelyn answers.

We pause for a moment once the entrance comes into sight to clear our minds. It’s a more difficult prospect than I first guessed, so I resort to turning my thoughts into a monotone song.

_La la la this is ridiculous la la la,_ I think crossly as we take our first few steps forward. No one says a word, too fearful that we’ll break our concentration. One slip-up could cost us a lot of time.

Miraculously, while the wind picks up slightly, we remain unimpeded as we reach the entrance and continue into the gloom waiting within. The passage is barely wide enough for all three of us and nearly pitch black at first. Wind whistles past us like a lullaby, an eerie, lonely sound in the absence of voices.

Soon light floods the tunnel from up ahead, a soft glow that turns blinding as we draw closer. It transforms the jagged edges of the walls to sparkling gems, splendid in their beauty.

With the startling light up ahead and the end of our journey in sight, the three of us pick up to a jog until we emerge in a huge open space.

A large, mostly empty cavern lies before us. A gaping hole in the roof leaves the space open to the night sky and the accompanying starlight. However, that alone is a dismal light source compared to the object before us.

A lone tree stands proudly in the center of the cavern, a tall, deciduous plant in full bloom despite it being late fall. In fact, the leaves and trunk all carry the same unnatural hue of glowing green. The tree acts like a massive lantern, shooting off that eerie light to even the darkest corners of the cave.

Lavi and Evelyn have stopped on either side of me, mouths agape and eyes wide with awe.

I suppose I would feel the same way if I could forget the horrors Innocence can cause.

I leave them to stand some distance back and slowly pace towards the tree, keeping that stupid mantra stuck in my head.

 _La la la we’re almost done,_ I sing silently, making my steps as slow and nonthreatening as my patience will allow.

Finally I stand less than a meter from the tree and reach out with a cautious hand. My fingertip barely brushes the trunk.

_So close, if I can just grab the Innocence…_

A power surge of angry red fires from the tree, sending me flying backwards to the edge of the cave. I land hard and grit my teeth to ward off the pain lancing through my body. It seems the blast has a lingering effect, leaving raging pain like a lightning strike.

Lavi and Evelyn are by my side in an instant. Lavi kneels down and places his hands on my shoulders to keep me steady, while Evelyn remains standing with her glove activated.

“Are you all right, Yu?” Lavi demands, but I’m still in too much pain to answer.

 _Damn it. I got careless,_ I think, cursing myself for losing the opportunity to finish the job.

Evelyn looks as if she’s going to say something as well, but the instant her mouth opens, her eyes widen and she snaps her gaze to the tunnel entrance.

None other than Frey ambles into the chamber. With sagging posture and vacant eyes, he looks more like a sleepwalker than someone who discovered the supernatural.

 _Stupid Beansprout. He let him sneak off,_ I think. _But how the hell didn’t I notice him following us?_

“I found it.” Frey’s voice is as absent as his expression. “The Leaf of Revival. It really exists.”

A frightening sense of determination sets in Frey’s eyes and he rushes toward the tree. He doesn’t even make it halfway there before the Innocence sends out another shock wave. It knocks him on his back, but he doesn’t stay there for long.

“Jacob! Jacob!” Frey mumbles like a madman as he stumbles to the tree again.

“Stop it!” I yell. _He’ll get himself killed!_

Evelyn, Lavi, and I huddle closer as the Innocence fires a much stronger pulse that shakes the entire cavern. The three of us remain unaffected, but Frey is lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall some distance away. This time he crumples to the ground and doesn’t get up.

Frey’s attempts appear to have angered the Innocence. The green hue of the tree is replaced by a much harsher red that shows no sign of calming.

The charade is up. There’s no hiding our intentions from the Innocence now and it’s clear it wants us gone.

 _No going back now,_ I think, rising to my feet. I draw Mugen and run my fingertips along the blade.

The instant the familiar blue light engulfs the sword, a concentrated blast of red fires from the trunk. Evelyn and Lavi draw their Innocence to deflect it. I hold Mugen vertically to part the attack and feel searing hot winds whistle past. It’s the same summer wind the tree gave off yesterday, only much, much warmer and deadlier.

“Stamp! Tree circle!” Lavi shouts, but when he slams the mallet to the ground, it has no effect.

“I can’t get closer!” Evelyn calls, shielding her face with her glove.

_What now?_ I ponder, rushing to think of a solution.

The Innocence finds one for me. It adds pointed chunks of snow into the mix and hurls them at us. They pass through the hot wind but are travelling so fast they don’t have a chance to melt.

With no way to deflect both those and the wind, I leap high into the air and over the tunnel of wind and ice. The Innocence can’t switch targets fast enough and I reach the tree in seconds. With a grunt of effort, I slice through the trunk in one swipe.

The tree topples sideways with a loud groan. The moment it hits the ground, the power keeping the tree alive fades and the abundant leaves wither and turn an unappealing shade of brown. Then they simply fall one by one until the branches are bare and the ground is littered with death.

Atop the tree stump sits the Innocence, a set of gears like Lala’s. It glows neon green as the tree did, but no longer puts up any fight without an object to possess.

I retrieve the gears and stuff them in my coat pocket before turning back to Lavi and Evelyn.

“We’ve got the Innocence,” I say conclusively. “Let’s go back.”

“Not so fast,” Frey growls. He ambles over to us, winded but otherwise unhurt. “Give that to me. I need it to revive Jacob.”

“This isn’t the Leaf of Revival,” Evelyn explains gently, but Frey ignores her.

“Just give it to me!” he demands. The crazed man stomps forward and grabs my coat collar, his face mere inches from mine.

“You heard her. You’re mistaken!” I shove Frey off me and he trips backwards, landing hard. “Innocence doesn’t have the power to revive someone.”

Frey doesn’t try to get up and will no longer meet my gaze. He carries a look of utter defeat, but after the way he treated us and his daughter, I can’t bring myself to feel bad for him.

“Sorry, but it’s true. Are you satisfied now?” Lavi confirms. “We don’t know why, but Innocence chose to dwell in this ordinary tree and made its leaves shine. I suppose many people thought it was the mythical tree and came here to pick its leaves. If that had continued, the tree was going to die eventually. So the Innocence caused snowstorms and hot winds to prevent people from coming near it. This was the tree that was protected by Innocence,” Lavi finishes, his eyes sad. “Although the Innocence could no longer protect it in the end.”

“Let’s go,” I say quietly, leading the way out of the cave and into the early dawn.

______________________________________________

We pause briefly once we’re outside to let our eyes adjust to the approaching sunlight after the darkness of the cave.

“Hey, the weather cleared up!” Lavi exclaims delightedly.

 _It really has,_ I think, smiling as I gaze upwards. The sky is a clear expanse of blue as far as the eye can see. The approaching sunlight reflects off the snow, turning the world into a work of art. It’s the perfect start to a successful morning.

At least, it would be, if I could stop thinking about my argument with Kanda earlier. It seems his mind travels the same direction. He glances at me, trying to make eye contact, but I haven’t the slightest clue what to say to him yet. _Sorry I yelled at you for being a jerk? Will you explain why you abandoned Michael in a blizzard?_ Anything my brain conjures is too argumentative to initiate a reconciliation. Best to wait and chat with him later.

Kanda suddenly grasps Mugen, his posture defensive. His eyes scan the tree line, but I don’t see anything there.

Reaching out with my mind yields nothing except the auras of my comrades and Frey. If we’re being watched, it’s not by something human.

“We’ve got company,” Kanda warns.

The three akuma burst from drifts of snow. They leer down at us, sly smirks crossing their faces.

“Give the Innocence to us!” the lizard demon bellows.

Frey finally gains the sense to hang back and takes shelter behind a tree. Lavi and I activate our Innocence in a flash and move to Kanda’s side. Together we stare down the enemy, waiting to see who makes the first move.

It’s a pitiful sight, really; three twenty-foot monsters towering over a rag-tag bunch of teenagers. Is this really normal for Exorcists? Kanda and Lavi don’t seem overly concerned, so it must be.

“I won’t let you get away this time,” Kanda growls.

_And I won’t let my fear hinder me,_ I vow silently. _I let it slow me last time, but never again._

The serpent akuma merely scoffs, coming forward to blow a heavy cloud of snow in our direction. It’s easy to deflect even for me. Regardless, it seems to pluck at Kanda’s nerves.

“I’ll take care of that akuma first!” he call to Lavi and me.

The serpent raises an eyebrow and swishes her tail like an invitation.

“Got it! I’ll get Eyeball over there,” Lavi says.

“Then the lizard is mine,” I agree.

Kanda lunges towards the serpent. His first several blows are aimed at its tail, presumably to slow it down. But it merely dances away through the air, leaving him to chase it around the clearing. Apart from landing some nicks on the tip of its tail, he’s not having much luck.

Lavi rushes at the eyeball while it fires snowy missiles at him. He dodges them easily and raises his Innocence high above his head.

“Big Hammer, Little Hammer. Grow, grow, grow!” he yells, enlarges the mallet to massive proportions before slamming it into the demon’s side. The akuma is sent flying, collapsed and out of the way for the moment.

I take on the much slower lizard. I summon every ounce of aggression in my body and sprint towards the demon, striking before it has a chance to counter. I slam my fist upwards and the lizard wobbles sideways, its stubby legs flailing for purchase.

One of the akuma’s claws catches my left side, but a lack of pain leads to me to disregard the injury. I can’t afford to lose focus just yet.

Dodging between the lizard’s swinging arms as it struggles to right itself doesn’t seem like a good idea, so I wait until it’s regained its balance before attacking again. The demon aims a clumsy blow at my head, but I simply duck and aim a punch at the same spot as last time.

This blow has a lot more force behind it and sends the lizard all the way to the ground, where it lies helpless.

_Another few blows should finish it off,_ I think in satisfaction.

However, it seems the serpent has other plans.

“Pathetic,” she grumbles, gazing in contempt at her stumbling comrades. “Why must I do everything myself?”

Kanda retreats several steps back when the serpent’s body becomes engulfed in a swirling white mist. Unlike any of her previous attacks, this one sucks in the surrounding air like a vacuum. My friends and I are unaffected, but the other two akuma begin to panic.

“What are you doing?! Stop!” they wail.

The serpent cackles madly as the mist engulfs all three of them. It dissipates a moment later, leaving a Frankenstein’s monster-esque abomination in its place.

Only a single akuma stands before us now. It retains the main body and face of the serpent, still howling with laughter. Its lower body resembles the eyeball demon in its dome shape and massive cannons protruding from the side. The lizard manifests in a set of arms and reinforced armor around the akuma’s face.

The demon finally falls silent. Its grin remains; clearly it believes this is an assured victory.

“I see. She assimilated the other two to become stronger,” Kanda mutters.

“She’s more merciless than you, Yu,” Lavi jokes, but his expression betrays his unease.

 _How much has its power level increased?_ I ponder. It must be significant for the akuma to seem so confident. Still, at least the added bulk makes it less mobile. That may give us an edge.

That unfortunately doesn’t help much at first. The serpent fires off a series of ice missiles. They are identical to the eyeball demon’s projectiles except their power and speed have massively improved.

Attempting to deflect the bullets could prove a fatal mistake, so I follow Kanda and Lavi’s example and dodge. It’s a difficult dance, but all of us manage to escape the hail unscathed.

“This may be a bit tougher than we thought,” Lavi mutters. He leans to one side to avoid the last of the freezing projectiles.

Kanda’s murmur of agreement turns into a gasp of surprise. I glance over to see him struggling to break free from Frey’s capture. His arms are pinned behind his back with little hope of escape. 

“Give me the leaf,” Frey demands, oblivious to the akuma turning her sights on them.

Kanda does notice.

“Get the hell off me!” he snarls, shock yielding to desperate fury.

I rush over to help, surprised to note the burn in my lungs as I struggle to take in sufficient air. _I know I’m new to this, but surely I can’t be tired already,_ I think. _Maybe it’s just nerves._

Breathless or no, I’m still halfway across the field when the akuma fires off a blast. This one more resembles its previous wind attack, only it sends out a single pulse of cold air.

Once the wave rushes past me, a thick layer of ice climbs up my feet like ivy. It halts just past my shins and doesn’t seem to pose any immediate threat. That is, apart from the fact that I can no longer move.

The others are facing the same predicament. They curse and struggle in vain to free themselves while the akuma looks on with a self-assured smirk.

_We’ll lose if this keeps up,_ I think, alarm pulsing through me. I bend down and slam my gloved hand into the ice. The tiniest of cracks emerges. _This could takes several minutes. We’ll be long dead by then,_ I realize, peering around for another solution.

I spy one immediately. A little golden shape whizzes through the air, swishing its plumed tail in greeting.

“We’re in time!” Allen exclaims in relief, bursting through the trees behind Timcanpy. He’s followed by Michael and Elda, both of whom remain at the edge of the forest.

I grin and return to punching the ice encasing my feet. The miniscule crack spreads like spider’s thread and some of the outer chunks begin to chip off. Another minute and I’ll be free.

Allen leaps around the clearing to dodge the akuma’s shots, firing back all the while. He has to switch perches often enough that many of his shots miss. Those ones that land deal a respectable amount of damage, but truly defeating the demon will take time that we don’t have.

_If I can just get loose…_

“Hey! Shoot my legs!” Kanda hollers at Allen, who throws him an incredulous glance.

“Wait, what?!”

“Just do it!”

Allen dons an uncertain grimace. Still, he fires a few spears of light at the ice encasing Kanda’s feet. They neutralize the akuma’s power and the ice dissipates in an instant.

Kanda jerks free of Frey’s loosened grip and rushes toward the akuma.

“Hey, us too!” Lavi calls eagerly.

Allen obeys and aims for our feet as well.

I gasp and flinch as the streams of light come zooming towards me. _I’ve already damaged the ice. What if the bullets pierce through and hit my leg?_ I think in alarm. I shut my eyes and feel the impact’s vibrations. Thankfully the bullets only shatter the ice and I stumble out of the debris the moment I’m able.

“All right!” Lavi shouts jubilantly. He flashes a toothy grin and draws back his Innocence. “Ready, guys?”

Kanda and Allen call back in agreement, but I am too breathless to join them. _Surely this can’t be entirely due to anxiety, right? It doesn’t feel like my airway is constricted. It’s as if I’m taking in oxygen but it’s still not enough._ There isn’t time to think about it. I push past the fatigue and sprint towards the akuma, tightening my fist as I run.

“No, no, dammit!” The akuma’s head swivels back and forth to keep track of the four of us surging forward, but there’s nothing it can do to stop us.

All of our attacks strike the akuma simultaneously. Sparks of mingling blue, green, and white fly in every direction. The akuma screeches in agony and thrashes about. I grunt and push against the demon’s solid body with all my might, and then suddenly there’s no resistance at all. The akuma explodes with a massive rush of wind that blows me off my feet and halfway across the clearing.

And then all is quiet.

A massive crater lies before me, a crusty brown indent in the midst of a field sprinkled with white. It is all that remains of our adversary, and it finally starts to sink in that we’re victorious.

I somewhat expect everyone to whoop and cheer. With the akuma destroyed and the Innocence in our possession, the job is a complete success. But this isn’t a sports match. We got what we needed by killing. No one offers congratulations. Instead there is only the quiet satisfaction that we all survived, that we succeeded and we’re a tiny step closer to winning the war.

For now, that is enough.

The rest of the team gathers near the edge of the forest. Elda bounds over to her father’s side while Michael offers his quiet smiles to the rest of our battered group. Kanda, Lavi, and Allen sheathe their Innocence and share a look of satisfaction.

I move to join them but stop when a tide of nausea threatens to send me to my knees. It passes in a moment but dizziness takes its place. 

_What’s happening to me?_

I stumble sideways and the nausea returns with a vengeance. A hot tide rises in my throat and I vomit specks of red onto my trembling hands.

 _Coughing up blood. Internal bleeding,_ I realize. _Was I hurt?_ I glance down to see a pool of crimson, dark and inconspicuous against the black uniform, spreading over my stomach. I recall the lizard akuma swiping at me, but not feeling any pain. _Adrenaline. It must have delayed the pain’s onset,_ I think. But oh, do I feel it now. Dull, pulsing fire engulfs my middle. I struggle to remember what to do in cases of extreme bleeding. _Does cold help? Lying down? Sitting up? Water? Pressure. Pressure helps._ I clutch a hand over my side, but oh, God, does that make it worse. I bite my lip to stifle a scream and sway violently, struggling to remain upright.

Kanda snaps something at Allen. I suddenly remember my friends are still here, yet several meters away.

_Need to get to them. They can help._

I take a step towards the group just as black spots descend over my vision. _No use. Won’t make it._ I try to call for help, but that doesn’t work either.

“Where’s Evelyn?”

_Help me._

Blessedly, Kanda looks over. His expression morphs from relief to shock and concern. The others follow his gaze and suddenly every eye is trained on me.

“Guys. Problem,” I manage before my legs give out and I topple forwards.

______________________________________________

I look around in time to see Evelyn stumbling toward us. As soon as her pained eyes meet mine, I know something’s gone horribly awry. She opens her mouth and a trickle of blood escapes.

“Guys. Problem,” Evelyn wheezes.

I break off at a sprint. Evelyn drops a second later. I reach her before she hits the ground, lowering her slowly to assess the damage.

“What the hell happened?” Lavi demands, rushing to my side.

I can only shake my head.

Evelyn whimpers a little when I set her down, tightening the grip of the hand clutching her side. Crimson leaks out from beneath her fingers.

_Oh no. No, no, no._

“Move your hand,” I tell Evelyn more gruffly than I intend.

Slowly, shakily, Evelyn loosens her vice-like grip. I set her hand aside, my attention temporarily caught on the sight of the snow beneath her fingers turning red.

I focus back on the matter at hand, analyzing the sizable gash in Evelyn’s side. It’s a long, straight slash, like a claw or a sword snagged her. It’s bleeding heavily, spilling thick crimson onto the surrounding snow.

“Put pressure on the wound,” Lavi instructs. His tone confirms my fear; it’s really bad.

I place my hand over the gash and hold it there. Evelyn lets out a sharp cry of pain and I instinctively relinquish my hold a little.

“Keep the pressure,” Lavi orders.

“I know!” I snap, pressing down again.

“Evelyn. Evelyn, stay with us,” Lavi calls, tapping her cheek. Evelyn’s eyes flutter a little behind closed lids. She’s fighting, but losing consciousness quickly.

_Shit. What do I do?_ I think, racking my brain for a solution. But I’m not a doctor and I can’t share my regeneration powers with her. There’s not much I can do. I let out a curse under my breath.

“We should get her back to the cabin,” Allen advises.

Lavi takes a deep breath.

“You’re right. I’m sure Bookman can help,” he agrees. He sounds as if he’s trying to convince us as well as himself.

“Then let’s go.” I hoist Evelyn on my back and rise, discouraged by her lack of reaction to the change in position.

Allen returns to Frey and Elda and ushers them back the way we came. Frey seems mildly unsettled, but Elda looks like she’s about to have a breakdown.

“Will she be okay?” Elda asks, her voice small with fear. She peers up at Allen with huge aqua eyes brimming with worry.

I ignore her, and the fact that Allen doesn’t answer, and start walking.

“I’ll run ahead and tell Bookman we’re coming,” Michael offers. He takes off into the forest and the undergrowth swallows him up.

I follow more slowly, moving as fast as I can without jostling Evelyn. With her shallow breaths brushing my face, I can only trudge on and hope that we get back in time.

Quite a while later, I feel a light tug on my coat sleeve. A glance over my shoulder yields a pair of drowsy but open blue-gray eyes.

“Hey.” I’m not sure what else to say. She’s probably still upset with me because of our fight earlier, but conversation might keep her awake and alert.

“Hey,” Evelyn replies. There’s no animosity in her voice. I don’t know if I should be relieved or more worried.

“Hold on a little longer. The inn can’t be much farther,” I murmur.

Evelyn gives no indication that she heard. Finally she takes a deeper breath.

“Kanda, I’m sorry I called you a bastard.”

The same sense of incredulity pulses through me as when she first spoke to me. Of all the things she could say right now, she chooses _that_? Telling her to save her breath vanishes from my mind.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I inquire.

“I didn’t…want to die angry with you,” Evelyn murmurs.

_Dammit. We need to move faster._

I pick up the pace a little, moving closer to Lavi, the head of our little pack, while Allen, Frey, and Elda hurry to catch up.

“Don’t be stupid,” I grumble. “You’re not going to die.”

Evelyn lets out a feeble, watery chuckle.

“And I thought you were the pessimist.” Her voice grows fainter until it trails off altogether.

“Evelyn.”

No reply.

“Lavi,” I call, my voice low. “How much farther?”

Lavi turns his head back slightly, but not enough for me to see his expression.

“It’s just up ahead,” he answers. “I think I see the cabin lights.”

Bookman and Michael are waiting for us on the front steps. They usher us inside, which feels like a furnace after spending the night in a snowstorm.

“Lavi, Kanda, you come with me. The rest of you wait out here,” Bookman orders briskly. He leads us both to a room near the back of the inn, a tiny living space with only a bed and some medical supplies.

With Lavi’s help, I lay Evelyn face-up on the mattress. My hand brushes hers when I draw back, deathly cold in the surrounding heat of the inn. The light tan of her skin is pallid now, so ghostly white that with her black hair, anyone could mistake her from something out of vampire lore. In fact, I can’t even tell if she’s breathing.

“Is she—”

“Alive, but going into hemorrhagic shock,” Bookman reports. His face is stoic, unreadable. “Wait outside, please. We need room to work.”

I nod and back out of the room, struggling to swallow my fear. Lavi notices and follows me partway.

“We’ll do everything we can,” he vows. Then the door closes and I’m left with nothing but my thoughts in the empty hallway.

The gory image of Evelyn’s injury plays through my mind over and over. If I’d been the one hurt, I’d be healed in a few days, tops. But Evelyn isn’t like me. The longer I replay the incident in my head, the more my doubts grow about whether or not she’ll pull through.

 _Why are people so damn fragile?_ I think angrily. _If she’d only been more careful. If only she hadn’t let her fear control her. I warned her that she couldn’t be soft on the battlefield. No hesitation. No fear._ My brain switches tracks. _But if I had just looked closer, if I saw that she was hurt…No. This isn’t my fault. She should have said something._

My frustration bubbles up until I feel like I might explode. _I need to get some air. I’ll probably break something if I stay here,_ I decide. I make for the front door, passing my coworkers on the way. They sit hunched over on various couches, a somber atmosphere falling heavily over the room.

I walk faster.

“Are you headed out?” Allen calls.

His voice almost sets me off. Almost. I clench my fists and exit the inn without answering. The door slams shut behind me and suddenly I can breathe again, taking deep inhalations of the crisp morning air.

I trudge along through leftover drifts of snow. They are already beginning to melt without the Innocence’s influence, creating a substance that more resembles slush than actual snow.

A wooden bench on the porch of a small shop catches my eye. I meander over to it and sit, resting Mugen against my knee. Then I close my eyes and simply listen.

The world is blissfully quiet, devoid of voices or footsteps. The only noises that remain are bird calls and the whispering of a steady breeze, a welcome song that slows my heartbeat and helps dissolve the tension in my muscles.

I stay like this for quite a while, enjoying the solitary meditation. Without the others around, it’s much easier to just pretend none of this exists.

I’m not sure how long that peace lasts, but it’s not nearly long enough. I open my eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps from the direction of the inn.

Lavi waves at me, his eyes half-shut and his smile more drunken than cheerful. He slumps down beside me with a groan, leaning his head back against the wall.

“You look like hell,” I mutter.

“Ugh. I feel like it too.” Lavi rolls his head sideways to look at me. “We did a blood transfusion.”

I puzzle over that for a minute. _Usually that’s a last resort. The procedure has a pretty low success rate,_ I recall.

“It’s not as dangerous as it sounds. This research isn’t public yet, but Bookmen have knowledge about the differences in blood types,” Lavi reassures me. I can only nod. I had no idea separate blood types even existed. “Anyway, my blood is compatible with most other types, but we’ll know for sure by tomorrow.”

“And if it works?”

“There’s a really good chance she’ll recover.”

An unexpected sense of relief courses through me. It’s not a definite happy ending, but it’s something, at least.

I glance sideways at Lavi. Exhaustion is finally getting the better of him. His eyes are slowly closing and his head lolls onto his shoulder.

 _He really needs water to help him regain strength,_ I think, sighing. _But the idiot will probably stay out here as long as I do._

“Hey,” I bark. Lavi starts awake. “Let’s go back.”

The atmosphere inside is much more jolly than when I left. Everyone else is talking comfortably in the sitting area, apparently just finishing breakfast, which consists of eggs and some kind of flavored bread.

The landlady hands Lavi and I each a plate when we walk in.

“You’ve all had a rough night,” she says sympathetically. “I’m going to take a plate to your mentor. You kids can just relax for as long as you need.”

Lavi chirps an enthusiastic thank-you. Then we join the others by the fireplace, trying to catch up on the conversation. But as soon as we take a seat, Frey rises and shuffles toward me. I tense and wait for him to make a move.

“Please give me the leaf,” Frey begs. His voice and posture no longer suggests anger. Instead his sunken eyes portray a desperate sadness.

After he attacked me twice, I can’t quite believe the change in attitude.

“You’re still going on about that?” I growl.

“I just want to revive my son,” Frey pleads, his voice breaking as tears swell in his eyes. He turns away to conceal them.

“I’m sorry. You’re hurting because I stopped you from saving him. I never thought you would suffer this much,” Elda murmurs. She fidgets her hands in her lap. “That’s why I wanted you to keep searching until you were satisfied, even though I knew the Leaf of Revival was just a myth.”

Frey’s gaze turns to his daughter, but maintains the same stony coldness as it did with me. _This is one screwed up family dynamic,_ I think. But it’s not my place to tell them how to live their lives.

Allen doesn’t share my point of view. His expression is startlingly angry when he stands to address Frey.

“Isn’t it Elda whom you should be saving?” Allen demands. Shock plays across Frey’s face, but he says nothing. “You’re so focused on chasing your lost son that you’re ignoring her. Aren’t you treating Elda, who is very much alive, like she’s the one who died?”

Frey looks to his feet and clenches his hands into fists. Elda hurries over to soothe him.

“Don’t worry about me, Dad. I know all of this has been tougher on you,” she murmurs. “Really, I’m okay.”

Frey peers down at his daughter. He simply stares vacantly for a moment, pondering Allen’s words. Then his eyes widen and remorse plays openly across his face. He opens his mouth to reply, but the words are lost and he simply pulls Elda in for a tight hug.

“Elda, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. He pulls back, but keeps a supportive arm around Elda’s shoulders. “Now that things have settled, we should probably head back home. Your mother is waiting for us.”

Elda nods eagerly. For the first time, contented smiles cross both of their faces.

 _Hurray. Happy endings,_ I think, feeling suffocated by the awkwardness of watching their mushy apologies. _At least Frey might treat Elda a little better._

“Thanks for everything,” Elda says to the rest of us. She and her father head towards the front door, but Allen calls them back.

“Actually, there’s one more thing you should know,” he starts cautiously. “Akuma, the creatures we faced earlier, are the products of tragedies, like what happened to you two.”

“That can’t be!” Elda exclaims, horrified.

“It’s true. So even if a man called the Millennium Earl comes to you and promises to revive Jacob, please don’t listen,” Allen urges.

“Don’t worry. I won’t ever have such a wish again,” Frey vows, smiling as he glances at his daughter. “From now on, I’ll look toward the future and be thankful for the lives by my side now.”

The next morning, Bookman announces that the blood transfusion was a success and Evelyn’s condition is stable. It isn’t until then that I truly allow myself to contemplate the possibility of her making a full recovery. I mull over what to say to her the whole day, sitting at her bedside in shifts.

 _Evelyn already apologized and she seems to have forgiven me, but I still want to tell her why I made the choices I did,_ I ponder. _But why? It’s not like I trust her._ Finally it dawns on me. It’s true that I don’t trust Evelyn, but I _want_ to. She seems to accept me even during my foul moods, and has enough of a backbone to stand up for herself. With time, she could become something I haven’t had in a long time. A friend.

I glance down at the sleeping shape before me. I replay the night she first spoke to me. As far as I know, I’m the first person she talked with at the Order. Was that trust on her part? And in Mater, she helped heal two possibly dangerous strangers. She had no Innocence to protect her and no weapon to defend herself. Why did she trust us not to hurt her?

Those questions weigh in my mind as I struggle to make a decision. _Letting my guard down to the wrong person could land me in a lot of trouble,_ I think. _Is it really worth the risk?_

______________________________________________

Reality gradually comes back into focus. At first all is quiet. There’s no wind, no voices, nothing but my own breathing. The surrounding air is warm with the stuffiness of a windowless room. The soft fabric of blankets brushes my fingertips. I don’t dare move or open my eyes. I’m almost afraid to.

_Am I alive?_

“Eyes open, sleepyhead.”

I pry my eyelids apart, blinking rapidly to adjust to the lamplight. Kanda peers down at me to my left, his gaze searching mine.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

I try to stretch but flinch and lie still when pain ravages my side. I run my hand along the wound, feeling the bandages covering the remnants of the gash and an abundance of stitches.

“I’ve been better,” I admit. “I…I thought I was dead.”

“Nope. I’m still stuck with you,” Kanda says. Hurt pulses through me, but a quick glance reveals the good-natured sparkle in his eyes.

I smile.

“Where are we?” I inquire, looking around.

“Back at the inn.” Kanda’s expression sobers. “You lost a lot of blood, but you’ll live.”

“How is everyone?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Annoying,” Kanda mutters, “but fine. Frey and Elda left already. The jackass finally got a wake-up call and apologized to Elda. There was lots of crying and hugging involved.”

“Oh, the horror,” I joke. “Besides that, how’s the weather?”

Kanda retrieves the Innocence from his coat pocket, extending the glowing gears in his open palm.

“Back to normal. I’ll be headed back to the Order soon to drop this off,” Kanda replies, nodding to the Innocence fragment before stowing it again. Suddenly he looks away, staring at nothing for a second before turning back to me. “I wanted to clear up what happened when I left Michael,” he starts.

I read the uncertainty in Kanda’s voice, his overly rigid posture and stony eyes. _This is really bothering him,_ I realize, making sure I give him my full attention.

“We had already passed the foot of the mountains when we heard fighting. It didn’t sound like it was going well,” Kanda explains. He keeps his eyes downcast, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t want to drag him into it, so I left him to come back and help.”

Kanda looks up at me, analyzing my response. I let out a heavy breath. Guilt spreads through me like fire.

“I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions when I should have just asked,” I murmur.

 _I didn’t trust him. Part of me was just waiting for him to betray me, looking for ways to find it,_ I think. _But not everyone is like my parents. I still don’t know why they left, and I probably never will. I need to let it go._

My strength is waning. Exhaustion drags at my eyelids and a drowsy haze clouds my thoughts. Sleep is suddenly a welcome prospect, but I want to ask Kanda something else first.

“Why didn’t you just say that from the beginning?” I inquire.

Kanda looks down again. Several seconds of silence pass in which my eyes close of their own accord. I snap them open more than once, determined to remain conscious. Eventually Kanda’s posture relaxes and he gently punches my shoulder.

“Get some sleep,” he advises rather gruffly, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.

I’m inclined to obey, but start back to fully alert when the door opens and someone steps through.

“Yo.” Lavi remains in the doorway, leaning comfortably against the frame with his arms folded. “Glad you’re up.”

“Learn to knock,” Kanda snaps.

_Oh boy. How long had he been waiting outside?_ I wonder apprehensively. _Did he hear our conversation?_ Judging by Lavi’s knowing grin, I’m going with yes.

“Hey! What’s up?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Well, I just got a call from Headquarters. Komui said that once you were stable and conscious,” Lavi says, nodding to me, “Yu, Allen, and Michael are supposed to head back.”

“Fine,” Kanda agrees.

“Me and the old man are going to stick around a while longer. Do some research and boring crap like that,” Lavi finishes. He’s still smiling, though, so I don’t think he minds that much.

It really dawns on me how lucky I am to have coworkers and friends like them. How big of a privilege it is to know that the people surrounding me will have my back no matter what. After Lala and Guzol died, I didn’t think I would ever find that again. I never could have anticipated the amazing people I would come to know.

“Thank you,” I murmur. Kanda and Lavi’s mystified expressions let me know to elaborate a little more. “For saving my life, I mean. I was in pretty bad shape.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Lavi chuckles. “Right, Yu?”

Kanda gives him a cold glare.

“I should get going.” Kanda pats his coat pocket. “Best to get this to Headquarters before more akuma come looking.”

“Smart plan,” Lavi acknowledges before turning to me. “I’ll go grab the old Panda so he can check your stitches.” He slips from the room, his footsteps echoing away down the hall.

Kanda rises to his feet and moves to leave as well.

“Take care,” I call.

Kanda waves at me over his shoulder, shuts the door, and then he’s gone.

I lean back in the rocking chair on the front porch of the inn, watching the sun’s slow ascent over the trees. I fold my hands close to my middle for warmth as my breath mists in the chilly air.

The weeks have flown by like the flock of migrating birds overhead. Winter has returned, as has the snow. The violent blizzards caused by the Innocence are no longer an issue. Instead a thin film of soft white powder coats the ground, easily scuffed away by a shoe to reveal yellowing grasses. It’s been a quiet few weeks, but the town’s really grown on me.

Lavi and Bookman have been helping me tremendously during my recovery. Recently they’ve even been giving me combat training. Hopefully I’ll feel a little less bewildered the next time a fight comes around. In return I’ve been helping with their research on Innocence lore. Their work is complicated and it often flies over my head, but I’ve been helping where I can. So far we haven’t turned up anything earth-shattering.

I turn my head at the squeaking of door hinges to see Lavi step outside.

“Hey Evelyn, you’ve got a phone call,” he announces, pointing back inside.

I frown, puzzled. It must be from Headquarters. They want me to return soon for a job, but I wasn’t expecting a call from them for another week. 

“Um, okay. Did they say why they’re calling?” I inquire.

Lavi shrugs.

“Nope. Komui just said he wants to speak with you,” he answers.

I follow Lavi back indoors and pace over to a phone mounted on the wall. I nervously raise the earpiece.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Evelyn, is that you?” Chief Komui calls.

“Yep. How are you?” I inquire.

“I’m…okay,” Chief Komui stammers. “How’s your side?”

I note the uneasiness in his voice, but push it aside almost as quickly.

“Much better.” I absently touch the scar. It hardly hurts now.

There’s a long pause that raises my concern. _Something’s wrong._ I think, alarmed. _Did someone die?_

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Lavi and Bookman hear the worry in my voice and look over. Lavi mouths the word _what_ , but I can only shake my head.

“Well, we need you to return to the Order to brief you on a job,” he replies evasively. “You’ll be sent on a search with Allen and Lenalee.”

“To collect Innocence?” I press, growing more afraid with each passing second.

Finally Chief Komui sighs.

“No,” he says. “To search for Kanda. He’s gone missing.”


End file.
